Chapter 4

The scandal spread like wildfire through our social circle overnight.

Rumors exploded across group chats.

Some claimed Stella Hayes was stepping out on her husband, scouting new billionaires before the ink on her marriage was even dry.

Some whispered that Julian was losing his touch, unable to keep his wife and resorting to dragging her out of private clubs.

And the version closest to the truth: A toxic mother-in-law tried to force a divorce, and the petty husband retaliated by blowing over a million dollars to set his wife up with wealthier men.

The Hayes family became the laughingstock of high society.

Arthur Hayes called the next morning.

My father-in-law had spent years abroad managing his health, rarely meddling in domestic drama. But a panic-stricken call from the club manager had reached him overseas.

Julian took the call.

I watched as his arrogance crumbled into quiet submission, his face draining of color until he ended the call, trembling.

"What did your father say?" I asked sweetly.

He shot me a look of pure, chaotic resentment.

"Dad wants us to... separate for a while. To cool off."

He paused, his voice trembling with humiliated rage.

"He froze every single one of my credit cards and accounts."

I suppressed a cold smirk.

Julian had the title of Vice President at the Hayes Group, but the real power and purse strings remained firmly in Arthur's grip.

The penthouse, the sports cars, the lavish budget he threw around—it all belonged to his father.

Cutting him off financially was the ultimate leash.

"What about the matchmaking agency?" I asked, feigning concern.

"I'll have Brenda cancel it," Julian muttered, sounding utterly defeated.

"Oh, don't do that," I smiled gently. "It cost $1.2 million. We've only seen one candidate—it would be a waste. Don't worry. I'll speak to Arthur."

Julian stared at me like I had lost my mind.

"You'll speak to him? Do you have any idea how furious my father is?!"

Of course I knew.

Arthur Hayes valued the family reputation above life itself.

His son and wife had made him the punchline of every country club in the state; he was undoubtedly livid.

But I also knew Arthur harbored a deep, unspoken debt toward me.

Years ago, when the Hayes Group faced a catastrophic liquidity crunch, it was my father—a proud, high-minded scholar—who swallowed his pride and called in every favor from his powerful former students to bail the Hayes family out.

Arthur never forgot that.

It was the sole reason why, no matter how much Victoria schemed, he had never allowed Julian to divorce me.

I dialed Arthur on FaceTime.

The screen connected. He was in his sunlit conservatory, trimming an expensive orchid, looking grim.

"Arthur," I said softly.

He glanced up, his expression softening slightly.

"Stella."

"Arthur, please don't be too hard on Julian. His mother pushed things too far, and he acted impulsively out of frustration." With one breath, I dumped all the blame squarely on Victoria.

"Impulsive? He's a bloody idiot!" Arthur barked, snapping a dead leaf with his shears. "The two of them have dragged our family name through the dirt!"

"I understand your anger, Arthur. But what's done is done. We need a solution that protects the company."

I paused, steering the narrative.

"The fee is completely non-refundable. Canceling it would just burn money. What if I treat the remaining meetings as business networking? I could use this exclusive access to connect with high-profile industry leaders, potentially opening doors for the Hayes Group."

I seamlessly repackaged a tawdry matchmaking scandal into an elite business development campaign.

Arthur fell silent. The shears hovered in the air.

"Is that truly how you see it?"

"Of course," I said, my tone dripping with sincerity. "I'm a Hayes by marriage. The family's interests are mine."

The screen remained silent for a long moment.

Finally, Arthur let out a heavy sigh.

"Very well. Do as you see fit. But Stella... I'm sorry for what they put you through."

"Don't worry about me, Arthur."

I hung up and turned to Julian.

His face was an absolute masterpiece of shock, confusion, and a creeping, primal dread.

He couldn't fathom how I had neutralized his furious patriarch in less than three minutes.

"So," I smiled coldly, "can I continue my 'networking' now?"

He glared at me for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, a single word forced its way through his clenched jaw.

"Yes."