The CEO's Psycho Fiancée

The first call came as we were racing to JFK for the red-eye to London. It was my boss’s fiancée.

“Ava,” she breathed into the phone, her voice tight with panic. “Nathan hasn’t texted me back in three minutes. Three minutes. Is he tired of me?”

I glanced at Nathan Hayes, who was deep in conversation with our legal team on his own phone. My laptop was balanced on my knees, ten different files for the Axiom-Hartwell acquisition open, each one a blinking cursor demanding my attention. I tried to sound patient. “Cecilia, he’s just wrapping up a call. We’re in crunch time.”

Fifteen minutes later, she called back. Her voice had dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “There’s going to be a dinner after the presentation, right? With drinks? You need to watch him, Ava. Don’t let any of those women get near him.”

The final pre-flight checklist was still sitting half-finished on my screen. “Of course,” I said, the words tasting like plastic. I hung up before she could say more.

She called back instantly. “And one more thing. I need him to send me a photo every five minutes. Just a quick selfie, so I know where he is. I’ll text you the poses I want.”

The final boarding call for our flight echoed through the terminal. My patience, already worn thin from a 36-hour work binge, finally snapped.

“Cecilia,” I said, my voice colder than I intended. “I’m his executive assistant, not his parole officer. I cannot monitor his private life for you.”

I hung up, powered down my phone, and boarded the plane. I thought she would get the message.

I was wrong. When we landed at Heathrow ten hours later, my phone nearly bricked itself trying to process the flood of notifications. One hundred and twenty-seven text messages. Ninety-nine missed calls. All from Cecilia Montgomery, each one more unhinged than the last.

1

My phone wouldn't stop vibrating, a furious buzzing in my palm. I finally managed to unlock the glitching screen. It was a waterfall of accusations.

Ava, what the hell was that? Why wouldn’t you agree to help me?

Why are both your phones off? Are you with him right now? ARE YOU?!

I knew it. I knew you only took this job to get close to him. You bitch. I’m not going to let you win.

The screen was filled with the vilest, most graphic assumptions about what I’d been doing with her fiancé for the last ten hours. A hot, dark anger bloomed in my chest. I had fought tooth and nail for this position, beating out dozens of other candidates. I worked myself to the bone, fueled by black coffee and the sheer ambition to prove myself. And in her twisted mind, all of that effort was just a long con to sleep with my boss.

This acquisition was everything. It was the move that would define Hayes Industries for the next decade. I saw Nathan looking at me, his brow furrowed in concern at the expression on my face. I just shook my head slightly, forcing myself to scroll past Cecilia’s poison to find the few work-related messages buried within.

Before I could open one, a video call from Cecilia lit up my screen. I squeezed the bridge of my nose, fighting the overwhelming urge to just throw the phone into the nearest trash can. I answered.

Her face filled the screen, and I flinched. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, her usually perfect blonde hair a tangled mess. She’d clearly been up all night, stewing in her own paranoia.

“Ava Chen! What were you just doing with Nathan?” she shrieked, her voice raspy. “Why did your phones turn on at the exact same time? Why are your locations identical? Are you in his bed right now? Did you fuck him?”

Before I could form a sentence, she barrelled on. “Thirteen hours! How many times did you do it? Did you use a condom? I’m telling you, as long as I’m alive, you will never use a baby to trap him!”

“Cecilia, you need to watch what you’re saying.” My voice was low and dangerous. I flipped the camera around, showing her the bustling international arrivals terminal at Heathrow. “My phone was off because we were on a transatlantic flight. Our location is the same because we are on a business trip. Your accusations are slanderous, and they are damaging my professional reputation. I don’t want to hear them again.”

“A business trip?” she sneered, her face contorting with disbelief. “Why wouldn’t he take a man? You schemed your way onto this trip, didn’t you? Just the two of you, alone. So much easier for something to… happen.” She shoved her face closer to her camera, her voice rising to a hysterical scream. “You think I’m an idiot? Taking this call from the airport to try and fool me? Just you wait, Ava Chen. You are going to pay. Some men are off-limits.”

“Pay for what, exactly?” A deep voice cut through her tirade. Nathan was now holding my phone, his expression thunderous as he stared at the screen.

“Ava is my most capable associate,” he said, his voice clipped and cold. “She has been leading the charge on this acquisition from day one. Who else was I supposed to bring? Someone who knows nothing?”

I had no idea how much he’d heard, but it was clearly enough. No CEO wants to be embroiled in a cheap scandal with his assistant. It’s poison for the company’s image.

The other end of the line went silent. Cecilia froze for a second, then her face crumpled, and tears began streaming down her cheeks. It was a practiced, heartbreakingly effective display.

She bit her lip, her voice now a small, wounded whisper. “Nathan, I’m just so insecure. I love you so much. The thought of losing you… it feels like my heart is bleeding.” She took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry with me. I’ll never do it again, I promise. I’ll have dinner waiting for you when you get back, okay?”

The hard lines of Nathan’s jaw softened. He let out a long, weary sigh. “I’m not angry. You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you? Cece, go get some rest. Be good. I’ll be home soon.”

Cecilia nodded, a sad little smile on her face, and blew a kiss at the screen before hanging up.

Nathan handed the phone back to me, rubbing his temples. His voice was gravelly with exhaustion. “I’m sorry about that. Cece… she hasn’t been the same since my mother tried to set me up with that heiress from the merger last year. She found out and has been terrified of losing me ever since. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.” He looked at me, his eyes filled with genuine apology. “When we get back, I’ll have accounting wire you a bonus. Three months’ salary, for the… emotional distress.”

The mention of money was like a shot of adrenaline. Suddenly, the anger, the exhaustion, the humiliation—it all just evaporated. I felt lighter.

I nodded crisply and took my suitcase from him. “I understand, Mr. Hayes. The hotel is booked. We can head straight there.”

As we walked out of the airport’s automatic doors, a strange feeling prickled the back of my neck. I glanced back over my shoulder, scanning the crowd. It felt like someone was watching me.

A moment later, my phone buzzed. A picture message. The photo was blurry, taken from a distance. It was of the exact moment I’d taken the suitcase from Nathan. But the angle was deceptive, making it look less like he was handing me a bag and more like he was holding my hand.

Beneath it, a single line of text: You’re going to pay for this.

2

I knew instantly who had sent it. I just hadn’t realized Cecilia was deranged enough to hire someone to follow Nathan in another country. I immediately showed the phone to him.

He let out a deep, frustrated breath. “I’ll deal with her when I get back. Right now, the acquisition is all that matters.”

He was right. She was thousands of miles and several time zones away. There was little she could do from there. I pushed the incident to the back of my mind, vowing to cash in all my saved vacation time the moment this trip was over. I needed to get away from this drama.

I had no idea the drama was already on its way to my hotel room door.

We spent the rest of the day and all through the night in a conference room, refining our strategy, ensuring every comma in the proposal was perfect. By the time we finished, the sun was rising over London. We had been running on fumes for nearly two days straight. My brain felt like a sputtering engine, and my heart was pounding a heavy, exhausted rhythm against my ribs.

I stumbled back to my room, my head throbbing. I didn't even bother to turn on the lights before collapsing onto the bed, desperate for sleep.

As consciousness began to fade, drifting into a heavy, dark fog, I felt something slithering over my skin.

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