Contract Marriage with My CEO Boss (Kylan and Katrina)

The fallout from Kylan and Katrina's marital woes had put Ross Corporation in a precarious position. Stocks wavered, public perception wavered, and the company seemed on the verge of spiraling into scandal-driven chaos. But Isabella had stepped in at the perfect

moment, turning disaster into opportunity with her calm demeanor and sharp public relations acumen.

Her press conference had been masterful. The carefully chosen words and polished responses had not only deflected attention from the personal drama but also positioned the company as resilient and forward-looking. Isabella's handling of the crisis sparked admiration among stakeholders and the media alike. Her ability to shield Kylan and the business from further scrutiny led to a surprising outcome: the company's stock prices, which had dipped at the peak of the scandal, rebounded to new highs within weeks. Kylan called Isabella into his office late one evening. The office was quiet, the hum of the city below the only sound breaking the silence. Isabella entered, her usual composed expression tinged with a hint of anticipation. She had been waiting for this moment, knowing that her efforts hadn't gone unnoticed.

Kylan leaned against his desk, his tie loosened and a rare smile on his face. "Isabella, I've been meaning to talk to you. What you did during the fallout, it was extraordinary. You saved this company, and, honestly, you saved me."

Isabella's heart skipped a beat at his words, though she maintained her outward calm. "I was just doing my job, Kylan," she replied smoothly. "You've built something incredible here, and I wasn't about to let it fall apart."

He shook his head. "You went above and beyond. The media is calling you a 'PR prodigy.' Investors are thrilled. Our employees are more confident than ever. I owe you, Isabella. If there's anything you want a bonus, a vacation-name it." Isabella's eyes lit up, but not for the reasons Kylan might have expected. She saw this as her chance. Her opportunity to turn his gratitude into something deeper. Taking a breath, she stepped closer, her gaze unwavering.

"There is one thing," she said, her voice soft yet firm.

Kylan tilted his head, intrigued. "Anything. Just ask."

She smiled, her eyes locking onto his. "A date. One evening. Just the two of us."

For a moment, silence hung in the air, and Kylan's smile faltered. He straightened, the easy warmth in his demeanor replaced with a guarded expression. "Isabella..." he began, his tone measured. "I appreciate everything you've done, and I value you immensely. But I can't do that. It wouldn't be right."

Her smile stiffened, though she quickly masked her disappointment. "I see," she said, her voice calm despite the sting of rejection. "Well, I had to try, didn't I?" Kylan chuckled awkwardly, hoping to ease the tension. "You're incredible, Isabella, but I'm still working things out with Katrina. My focus needs to be on my family."

"Of course," Isabella replied smoothly, though her clenched fists behind her back told a different story. "I completely understand."

Despite the rejection, Isabella's star continued to rise. Articles began to circulate about the woman behind the man, lauding her as the unsung hero of Ross Corporation. Journalists painted her as the backbone of the company, someone who rivaled the contributions Katrina had once made as Kylan's secretary. Some even suggested she was the secret to Kylan's recent success, a sentiment Isabella subtly encouraged in interviews and social media posts.

The media frenzy brought her newfound fame, and she embraced it with gusto. Photos of her leaving the office in designer outfits began to surface, accompanied by headlines like "The Powerhouse Assistant: Isabella Stone" and "Kylan Ross' Right-Hand Woman is a PR Genius." She was invited to speak at industry events, where she dazzled with her eloquence and sharp wit.

Internally, employees began to see her in a different light. While Katrina had once been the heart of the office, Isabella was now its mind... cold, calculating, and fiercely efficient. Some admired her, while others feared her growing influence. ~0~0~0~

Later that evening, Ryan was at his desk as he sifted through documents, his brow furrowed in concentration. As a former police investigator, old habits died hard. He had a hunch, and he wasn't one to let things go until he had the answers.

Over the past few weeks, he had quietly been looking into the media leak about Kylan and Katrina's marital issues. Something about it didn't sit right with him. The timing, the precision, and the way it had exploded into a full-blown PR nightmare... it all felt too orchestrated to be a random leak.

Finally, a breakthrough.

Ryan leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth tugging into a grim smile. He had found a digital trail... subtle, almost expertly hidden, but not enough to evade his trained eye. The leak had come from someone inside Ross Corporation, and not just anyone. It had come from someone with high-level access to Kylan's personal schedule, his meetings, and even his private communications.

One name kept surfacing, tied to subtle anomalies and inconsistencies: Isabella.

Ryan didn't waste time. The next morning, he called Max into his office. Max was one of the few people Ryan trusted implicitly, and he knew he would need his ally's support to handle what was coming next.

Max closed the door behind him, his easygoing demeanor replaced by a more serious one when he saw Ryan's expression. "What's going on?" he asked, sitting down across from him.

Ryan pushed a file across the desk, his gaze sharp. "I've been digging into the leak about Kylan and Katrina. It wasn't random. It was an inside job."

Max opened the file, scanning the contents. It didn't take long for the pieces to fall into place. His eyes widened as he read further, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Are you saying... Isabella?"

Ryan nodded, his voice low and firm. "She's the only one who fits. She had access to all the information that went public. The media didn't just stumble onto this-they were fed, Max. And she's the one who's been profiting from it the most."

Max leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. "She's become a media darling because of it," he said, his tone dark. "The perfect assistant, the PR genius who saved the company. But it was all a setup, wasn't it?"

Ryan nodded again. "That's my theory. She created the chaos and then swooped in to fix it, all to elevate her position. And it worked. Kylan trusts her, the media adores her, and now she's more powerful than ever." Max's jaw tightened. "Does Kylan know?"

"Not yet," Ryan replied. "But he needs to. The question is how we approach this. If we go in without solid proof, Isabella will deny everything and spin it in her favor. She's too good at this game."

Max rubbed his temples, exhaling sharply. "We need to handle this carefully. Kylan's already been through enough. If he finds out someone this close to him betrayed him, it'll hit him hard."

Ryan's gaze hardened. "We have to act, Max. If we let this slide, she'll keep manipulating him and the company. And the next time she strikes, it could be even worse."

Max nodded slowly, the weight of the situation settling heavily on his shoulders. "Alright. Let's gather more proof. Something irrefutable. And when the time comes, we'll make sure Kylan sees the truth."

Unbeknownst to them, Isabella was already laying the groundwork for her next move. She had noticed the subtle shifts in Kylan's demeanor-his gratitude, his occasional smiles of appreciation. While he had turned her down for a date, she saw it as a temporary setback rather than a defeat. Sitting in her office, she scrolled through her phone, reading the latest headlines about herself. "The Woman Behind Hayes Enterprises' Comeback," one article proclaimed. Another called her "Kylan Ross' Secret Weapon."

She smirked, leaning back in her chair. "One step closer," she murmured to herself.

Isabella had no intention of stopping now. In her mind, the company-and Kylan-were hers for the taking. All she had to do was wait for the right moment to strike again. ~0~0~0~

The wind off the water whispered

through the cracks of the old house, sending the scent of salt and pine deep into Katrina's chest. She had lived here as a child, but now, each creak of the floorboards and the quiet rustle of the trees outside felt foreign, as if the house itself had become a place of grief, a place where time itself seemed suspended in her heartache.

Katrina stood by the window, watching the fog roll in from the bay. Clarence, her bright-eyed daughter, was coloring at the small table by the kitchen, humming quietly as she filled in the edges of her drawings. Despite the color in her art, Clarence's spirit had dimmed.

AC

since

they arrived in Portland. She spoke less, played less, always seemed to be waiting for something to happen, something to bring her mother's smile back.

Katrina hadn't smiled in months.

After leaving Kylan, she had hoped that coming back to her father's

house would offer some reprieve, some distance from the pain. But the grief had followed her like a shadow, fingering in every corner of the house, in every room where memories of her life with Kylan once lived. She tried to tell herself that it was the right decision to leave. She had caught him, after all. She heard the voice of the woman, Isabella, the sound of betrayal, the echo of the world she had built crumbling

beneath her feet.

But now, every night, she dreamed of him.

Kylan's face, his voice, asking her to forgive him, to understand. And each morning, when she woke, the guilt gnawed at her. Could she have misunderstood? Was there another explanation? But the trust, once broken, was a weight she could not lift.

She heard the soft knock at the door, followed by the familiar, calm voice.

"Kate? It's me," her father, Alois, called from the other side.

Alois had always been a man of few words, the kind whose actions spoke louder than any grand speech. He was a stoic presence, a man of the earth, someone who understood the weight of silence and the need for patience. When Katrina's world had fallen apart, he had been there without asking, though she knew it pained him to see his only daughter so broken.

She wiped her eyes quickly before opening the door, her father standing in the frame, his broad shoulders and quiet strength a constant source of comfort. His graying hair, neatly combed back, contrasted with the weathered lines on his face, but his eyes-those eyes- were always soft, always patient.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, my dear. But we need to talk," he said gently, stepping into the room. His gaze flicked over to Clarence, who was still absorbed in her drawing, and then back to his daughter. "How are you feeling?"

Katrina didn't have to say a word. Her silence spoke volumes.

"Sometimes," Alois began, sitting down across from her, "the hardest thing to bear is the not knowing. But that's why you have to trust the truth, even if it hurts."

Her chest tightened. "I don't know if I can trust it anymore, Dad. The truth... it's all a blur now." Her voice cracked on the last word, and she quickly swallowed it down. "Kylan... he lied to me. I heard it from her... her voice on the phone. He had to have been cheating. How can I ever look at him the same again?"

Alois sighed softly, looking at her with the steady gaze of someone who had lived a long, full life. "Katrina, you know I love you. And I know what you're feeling. I'm not asking you to forget the hurt. But I'm telling you. He's been coming here. Almost every week, since you left."

Katrina froze, her mind instantly rebelling against the words. "What do you mean? Kylan's been coming here?"

Her father nodded slowly. "He comes to the house, sits in that old chair of mine, and he talks about you. About what happened. About wanting to explain. He wants to make things right, Kate. He wants to fix it." Katrina's heart began to race, the anger and confusion swirling again inside her. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" she demanded, a sharp edge in her voice. "Why didn't you say something when he was here, begging you to get me back? I don't need him—" "I'm not asking you to go running back to him," Alois interrupted, his tone still calm, steady. "I'm asking you to hear him out. To understand that sometimes, misunderstandings happen. But, I've watched Kylan, and I know that man. He is not a cheater, Katrina. He's not." She stood up abruptly, her fists clenching at her sides. "You don't know what it was like, Dad. You didn't hear the way she said it. The way she said it, so casual, like it was nothing. I don't know how to look at him without seeing her face, without hearing that voice in my head, telling me that he's been unfaithful."

Alois rose from his chair, his movements slow, deliberate, as if he were giving her space to feel the weight of her emotions. Then, without a word, he walked to the window and stood beside her, gazing out at the water. After a long pause, he spoke softly, his voice rich with a lifetime of wisdom.

"Sometimes, we let our pain speak for us," he said, his gaze never leaving the horizon. "We hold onto it so tightly that it's all we can see. But sometimes, we have to let go of the past to see the future clearly. Your heart won't heal if you don't give it a chance to understand." Katrina closed her eyes, tears threatening again, but she blinked them away. "I don't know if I can do that. I'm so... angry, Dad. Angry and heartbroken."

Alois turned to face her then, his eyes steady, unflinching. "I know, my dear. But I also know that you are one of the strongest people I know. If you can trust in yourself, you can trust in the truth, too. Just... think about it. Think about what Kylan has done to try to make things right. Don't let your anger drown out everything else."

Katrina's heart pounded in her chest. She had heard those words before, in the moments when she was trying to hold it all together. Think about it. But how could she? How could she think clearly when the betrayal felt so fresh, so raw?NôvelDrama.Org: text © owner.

Her father's hand rested gently on her shoulder, and for the first time in months, she felt a flicker of warmth, a tiny spark of hope. He wasn't asking her to forgive Kylan today, or even tomorrow. He was just asking her to listen. To stop running from the truth, no matter how much it hurt.

"I'm not asking you to decide today, Katrina," Alois said softly. "But don't let your hurt blind you forever. He deserves a chance to speak, and you deserve to hear him out."

Katrina turned away from the window, her gaze flicking to Clarence, who was still lost in her art. She longed to believe it was possible to move beyond the pain, beyond the distrust. She wasn't sure if she could find a way through it all, but one thing was certain: Her father's calm, unshakable belief in her was the anchor she needed right now.

"Maybe... Maybe I will listen," Katrina whispered, the first step in a long, uncertain journey.