The Woman He Ruined Will Ruin Him

Everyone in Washington DC knew Madeline Hartwell was lucky. Her looks, her figure, her pedigree: all of it was flawless. Even after the Hartwell family fell from grace and her brother was sent to prison, her childhood sweetheart, Sebastian Prescott, never wavered. For three years since their engagement, he had pampered and protected her. She hadn't suffered a single hard day. This winter would mark their third engagement anniversary. All of Georgetown was whispering about one thing: when would the wedding be? Late at night, Madeline drove out of the underground garage, slipped past the reporters camped at the south entrance, and rode the elevator up. Only one window in the entire Prescott Tower was still lit: the CEO's office on the top floor. That was why the press refused to leave. If she hadn't spotted the contract Sebastian left behind in his study, she would never have risked the photographers to bring it over. The receptionist on night duty was dozing at the front desk. The moment she saw Madeline, she snapped awake and stood straight. "Good evening, Director Hartwell." Madeline gave her a small smile and went straight up. At the CEO's door, her hand was already raised to knock when she heard a familiar woman's voice. "Sebastian, when exactly are you going to tell Madeline the truth?" Madeline's hand froze in midair. That was Charlotte Whitmore. Her best friend. Why was she here at this hour? Through the gap in the blinds, she could just make out Charlotte and her fiancé sitting across from each other, sipping bourbon, relaxed and comfortable. Charlotte laughed. "You're unbelievable. You engineered the Hartwells' collapse. You took their flagship business. Then you staged that whole knight-in-shining-armor rescue so she'd be grateful to you. Nobody else could pull that off." She was too pleased with herself to notice the door was not quite closed. Madeline stood in the dark corridor, her mind a white blank. The color drained from her face. Every word hit her like a clap of thunder. The Hartwell collapse was his doing? The loan sharks who threatened to ruin her face, the way Sebastian took a knife wound shielding her... all of it had been staged? And Charlotte knew. Charlotte, her best friend of ten years, had known the whole time. Madeline began to shake. Inside, Charlotte covered her mouth, still giggling. "Now your dream girl is finally coming back to the States. Madeline has built the jewelry division up for you. She's served her purpose. Why not just throw her away?" Sebastian had his back to the window. Madeline couldn't see his face. Two hours ago, he'd kissed her forehead and whispered good night. Now he lounged on the leather sofa, a crystal glass in his hand, and the sight of it made her throat tighten. His voice was cold and flat. "No rush. Madeline is still useful. Isabelle walked out without a word and left me three years of misery. I want to use Madeline to make her jealous." Three years. Three years of engagement, and all this time he had been carrying a torch for his ex. Madeline's legs nearly gave out. Sebastian leaned forward and set down his glass. "Besides, her brother's attorney is still working on a sentence reduction. I need to keep that going." "Ha! I can't stop laughing every time I think of that fool, Grant!" Charlotte was getting louder. She slapped the cushion beside her. "You had that man flirt with Madeline right in front of him, and he went charging in with his fists. Eight years! He had it coming!" Then Charlotte hesitated. "But should we tell Madeline about her father's condition? It sounds serious." Madeline's breath caught. Dad was sick? "Not yet. In two months, I'll tell her everything myself and settle it." Sebastian's tone hardened. "Don't forget, the jewelry division is launching a limited-edition collection. Everyone is counting on her. And your own career still needs her. We can't let her get distracted. Besides, the old man isn't dying anytime soon." The voices faded. Madeline felt frozen to the bone. The whole winter wind of the city seemed to be blowing straight through her blood. Her devoted fiancé. Her best friend of ten years. They were vultures, climbing to the top on her family's bones. She lunged for the door handle, then bit down on her tongue hard enough to taste blood. That stopped her. Her eyes burned red. She hurried back downstairs and pushed the contract across the front desk. "Don't tell anyone I came tonight." She ran out of the building. The icy wind tore through her thin coat. She stumbled into the garage, their voices still echoing in her head. She got into her car and went back through that terrible night three years ago. The Hartwell family business had been thriving. Then her father was exposed for involvement in illegal projects, and several of his associates were arrested. Her parents drained every dollar of their savings to compensate the victims. Rivals circled like sharks the moment they sensed blood. Madeline had gone out to beg for help on her parents' behalf. A vice president at a competing firm cornered and harassed her. Grant arrived just in time to pull her free. But he hurt the man badly, and the court gave him eight years. None of it had been an accident. Sebastian had planned all of it! What had he been doing before the chaos began? She remembered. That year, Sebastian beat out his scheming cousins and won the favor of Grandfather Prescott. He became the heir to Prescott Group. He needed a victory. Something to prove himself to the board and calm the shareholders. So he chose the Hartwells as his target. Then he pretended to love her, to protect her, to do anything for her. His men "helped" clean up her family's mess. In truth, they were erasing the evidence. He "rescued" the Hartwells' laid-off engineers, then folded the last of their businesses into Prescott Group. It was recruitment and acquisition in one move. He hired a lawyer for Grant and cut the sentence from twelve years to eight. It wasn't mercy. It was a way to keep Grant locked away, so no one would dig into the real reason the Hartwells collapsed. Then he sent her exhausted parents, who had gone gray almost overnight, to live quietly in the Shenandoah Valley. He kept Madeline at his side and proposed in front of hundreds of guests. To keep her under his thumb, he made sure she poured everything into the jewelry division. Madeline's eyes filled with a blood-red hatred. She clenched her fist and slammed it against the steering wheel. Blood ran down her knuckles. She felt nothing. After the Hartwells fell, she had been so grateful to him. She would have given her life for Sebastian Prescott. She had given up her name as a master designer because he asked her to work behind the scenes and run the jewelry division. For three years, she had handed her designs to her best friend Charlotte. She nurtured her into a celebrated design prodigy. She poured her heart into earning millions for Prescott Group. And in the end, fate played the cruelest joke of all. The man she trusted. The friend she relied on. They were the very enemies who had destroyed her family, squeezing out every last drop of her worth before planning to toss her aside. She hated their coldness. She hated even more her own blindness: she had mistaken her enemy for a savior and nearly married the man who destroyed her family, nearly had his children! The more she thought, the more her chest ached, until she could hardly breathe. She cried silently in the car until her tears ran dry and her head throbbed. Her whole body felt like it had been thrown into a fire. Then dawn broke over Prescott Tower. Sebastian stood before the cameras in a tailored suit and tie, polished and confident. Reporters surged forward, microphones raised. "Mr. Prescott, is this much-anticipated collection also designed by your fiancée, Madeline Hartwell?" "Charlotte Whitmore's work is selling extremely well, and she publicly thanked Madeline for her support. Is this another collaboration between best friends? We can't wait!" Sebastian raised an eyebrow. His assistant, Dana, lifted a hand to quiet the crowd. "Mr. Prescott has a few words." Sebastian smiled. "Prescott Group has raised the winter collection's promotional budget by twenty million over last year. That's thanks to Madeline's hard work, and she'll have my full support. And of course, Charlotte will join the design team as always." A reporter called out, "When are you and Miss Hartwell getting married? We're all waiting to congratulate you!" Sebastian's smile slipped for half a second. Then his voice went soft. "Well... that mostly depends on when Maddie is ready to marry me." "I won't." A slightly hoarse voice cut through the crowd, edged with hatred she couldn't quite hide. Sebastian turned. When he saw who had arrived, he froze. "Maddie." Madeline had touched up her makeup and tied her long dark hair back in a quick knot. Oversized sunglasses covered her eyes, making her look colder, more untouchable. She took the microphone from a reporter's hand. "Thank you all for your concern. But I have no plans to marry Sebastian Prescott."