He Scorned Me, Now I’m a CEO He Can’t Afford Chapter 02

He Scorned Me, Now I’m a CEO He Can’t Afford Chapter 02

The moment Wyatt asked the question, the air in the living room turned to ice.

Lena’s heart slammed against her ribs.

He knew?

He knew the plan that had impressed the judges was hers? Had he finally seen through her disguise?

An expectation she hadn’t even realized was there began to form, only to be shattered by a voice from the stairs.

“Wyatt!”

Clara, dressed in a white sundress, came stumbling down the steps, her eyes red from crying. She rushed toward Wyatt, then stopped short, her expression one of profound betrayal.

“Wyatt, you can’t believe her!” She raised a hand and pointed at Lena. “It was her! She reported me to the committee! I spent six months on my proposal, and now I’ve been disqualified!”

Lena froze, her fingers flying across her tablet.

She pulled up her inbox and saw an email from the committee, the subject line her entry number.

Then she spotted another email in the trash folder, deleted only moments ago.

She restored it and saw the recipient.

Clara.

The message was simple: Clara was being informed that her submitted proposal “lacked feasibility and substantially overlapped with previous winning entries,” and was therefore being rejected.

But what chilled Lena to the bone was the login record.

Five minutes ago, someone had accessed her email from another device.

The IP address was from inside this house.

It all clicked into place.

It was Clara.

The password was 1884. The year Rattlesnake Ranch was founded.

Lena had told Clara that password years ago, foolishly calling it the “lucky number” she’d chosen for her future with Wyatt.

Clara had taken the trust Lena had given her and sharpened it into a knife.

“Lena, how could you do something like this?”

“Clara worked so hard on that district development proposal. We all saw it!”

“Wyatt already promised that if Clara won, our ranches would develop that new pasture together. You’re just jealous!”

Accusations flew from all corners of the room.

Lena saw it all with perfect clarity.

The committee had rejected Clara’s flawed proposal on its own merits. But Clara had hacked into her email, discovered the committee had contacted Lena, and twisted the situation to her advantage.

And Wyatt?

He hadn’t come back to see if she was more than she seemed.

He was here to defend Clara.

That tiny flicker of hope died instantly.

She opened her mouth to explain, to show them the proof on her tablet.

But Wyatt spoke first.

“Lena.” He didn’t even look at her, merely raising a hand to pat Clara’s back. “Stop with the petty games.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but it silenced the room.

“If this happens again, don’t blame me for forgetting the years of friendship between our families.”

With a single sentence, he had walled off any explanation she could offer.

Lena watched the gentle way he comforted Clara, then glanced at the undisguised distrust he aimed at her. A wave of exhaustion washed over her.

She stood quietly for a few seconds, then switched off the tablet.

“Fine.”

One word.

Barely a whisper.

But it was enough.

Explanations only matter to people who care about the truth.

Since he had already decided she was guilty, anything else she said would be a waste of breath.

Wyatt paused.

He had expected her to get angry, to argue, maybe even to throw her tablet on the floor.

But she did nothing.

She just stood there, a silent statue so unlike herself that it grated on him.

Before Wyatt could process why it felt so wrong, Clara pressed closer to him. “Wyatt,” she said softly, “let’s go to the barn dance in town. My favorite band is playing tonight.”

The town barn dance was an old tradition.

Strings of lights were draped across the barn’s high rafters, and the air smelled of hay, beer, and barbecue. As the country music started up, couples in cowboy boots and plaid shirts spun across the dance floor.

The moment Wyatt walked in, he became the center of attention.

Girls flocked to him, all hoping to land the first dance with the future owner of Rattlesnake Ranch.

But for the first time, Lena, who used to be the first in line, didn’t move from her spot.

She sat alone on a hay bale in the corner, turning a worn turquoise necklace over and over in her hand. It was the only thing her mother had left her.

She lowered her head, her heart quiet.

She used to believe that if she was sincere enough, Wyatt would eventually see her.

Now she knew better.

You can’t make someone see.

Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the pair of worn crocodile boots that stopped in front of her.

Lena looked up and saw Wyatt.

He had cut through the circle of girls and come straight to her.

“Get up,” he said. His tone was stiff, but the hard edge from earlier was gone.

Lena didn’t move. She just looked at him.

Wyatt seemed uncomfortable. His gaze shifted, landing for a second on the turquoise necklace in her hand before flicking away.

“Didn’t you always want to learn the Texas Two-Step?” He cleared his throat and held out his hand. “I promised I’d teach you.”

Lena remembered.

Last summer, at a bonfire, she’d clumsily tried to learn the dance and stepped all over his feet. Wyatt had said she moved like a lost calf, but she’d just laughed and pestered him to teach her properly.

At the time, he’d tossed back a single sentence: “When it rains red in Texas.”

She hadn’t thought he’d remember.

And she certainly hadn’t expected him to offer today, of all days, after humiliating her in front of everyone.

Lena looked at his outstretched hand.

That hand had saved her life.

It had also pointed at her in condemnation.

Kindness that came too late was crueler than indifference.

But she stood anyway and placed her hand in his palm.

Wyatt led her onto the dance floor, his hand settling on her waist as he guided her through the steps.

The room grew noticeably quieter.

All eyes were on them.

Lena was acutely aware of one gaze in particular, boring into her back.

Clara’s.

The song ended. The moment Wyatt let go of her hand, Clara burst into tears.

“Lena,” she choked out, tears instantly tracking down her cheeks, “it’s fine. I admit it, I lost. I’ll go clean both families’ stables right now.”

With that, she turned to leave, but Wyatt caught her arm.

“Clara, what are you talking about?”

Clara bit her lip, her voice so small it was almost inaudible.

“Last night… Lena made me bet on who you’d ask for the first dance tonight. She said whoever lost had to clean both our families’ stables alone.”

Lena thought she must have misheard.

“Clara, what are you talking about? When did I ever make a bet with you?”

Clara’s sobs grew louder, her shoulders trembling.

“Lena, you did… You even threatened me. You said if I didn’t agree, you’d cut the mane of the little white horse Dad gave me. I was scared, so I had to agree…”

She continued to cry. “But don’t worry. A bet’s a bet. It’s just cleaning stables. I’ll go right now…”

A low murmur rippled through the crowd.

The way people looked at Lena shifted from curiosity to contempt.

Wyatt held Clara’s arm, his face darkening.

Slowly, he lifted his head and looked at Lena.

“Lena,” he said, his voice cold and hard, “did you set this up?”