Ripping My New CEO Boyfriend Off His Throne

To repay the debt my father owed him, I lifted Hudson Grant from a broke nobody into the highly respected Mr. Grant that everyone admired.

At our engagement party, a reporter asked, “Mr. Grant, you’ve achieved so much and immediately held this engagement party. You must love your fiancée deeply.”

Hudson Grant answered with certainty, then walked toward me with tender eyes.

But just as I reached out my hand, he turned aside and took the hand of the girl sitting next to me.

“This is Samantha Brooks, the woman I love the most. She’s the one who has been with me every step of the way.”

The room erupted in shocked whispers. Then, standing proudly on stage with Samantha at his side, Hudson’s expression hardened.

“Today, besides introducing the woman I love most, I also want to expose the woman I hate the most.”

Gasps filled the hall.

“She offered me a hand when I was down, but used that kindness to emotionally blackmail me. But today, in front of everyone, I want to declare that Samantha Brooks is the only woman I will ever have.”

As he spoke, the spotlight landed squarely on my face.

I stayed calm and sent out two quick messages on my phone:

[Take every investment for Hudson Grant.]

[I’m breaking up with him. Here’s your chance. Are you marrying me or not?]

Immediately, every reporter swung their cameras toward me.

“Miss, what do you have to say about what Mr. Grant just said?”

“Mr. Grant already has a girlfriend. If you keep clinging to him, doesn't that make you a mistress?”

“What was your mindset coming to this engagement party in the first place, miss?”

My gaze cut through the crowd of reporters and fixed on Hudson.

“Hudson Grant, are you sure you want to do this?” My voice was ice.

Instead of answering, he raised his hand, fingers interlaced with Samantha’s, holding them high for everyone to see.

“What’s with the smugness, Madeline Seymour? You’re just a florist. You couldn’t measure up to Samantha even if you tried. With the whole media here watching, are you still have the nerve to cling to me?”

And then I finally understood.

This was why he had been so insistent about throwing such a grand engagement party, why he had pushed so hard to invite the press. When he first suggested it, I’d refused. I hated the waste and being the spectacle. But Hudson had cupped my hands, his eyes warm with affection.

“I just want the world to know how much I love you, Madeline. Please, can’t you say yes, just this once?”

That so-called “love” of his turned out to be nothing more than a trap. Like a general cutting down his confidant as his first act of war. But Hudson didn’t want to carry the blame, so he came up with this scheme. On the big screen, a montage played—clips of Hudson and Samantha’s love story, from the first spark to their so-called forever. 

So, on the night I drank myself into a stomach bleed for his business deal, he was on a rooftop confessing to Samantha. The night he told me he was too busy with work to celebrate my birthday, he was with Samantha celebrating their 100-day anniversary. Even the late-night garlic crawfish he begged me to cook for him, was for Samantha.

Everyone in the room was mesmerized by their romantic vlog. People sighed in admiration at their “beautiful love.” Only I knew the truth—that his “true love” was nothing but adultery dressed in ribbons. All I ever wanted was to help him succeed.

It was him who confessed first.  He was the one who promised me forever, looking me dead in the eye. I drew a long breath, forcing the bitterness down. Thank God I hadn’t drowned in his poison masquerading as love.

My phone buzzed nonstop in my hand. I could already imagine the online smear against me. Preparing myself, I finally glanced down. The first thing I saw was a string of replies:

[Yes. Of course I’ll marry you. Don’t you dare back out!]

A smile tugged at my lips. But before I could savor it, Hudson’s voice thundered across the hall.

“Why are you grinning?” His eyes narrowed with contempt. “What is it this time—planning to blackmail me again? Thinking about leaking those intimate photos, aren’t you? Well, guess what—everyone already knows you forced me into those, using your father’s debt as leverage.”

Gasps swept through the crowd. Some of the media, sharp enough to see which way the wind blew, began siding with Hudson.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Grant. We’ve been live-streaming this whole time. No matter what she tries, it won’t affect your reputation,” one of them chimed in.

“That’s right. Even if she paid me to leak the photos, I wouldn’t post them,” another added.

Hudson snapped his fingers and one of his assistants came forward with a suitcase. He snatched it, then hurled it at me. It hit my chest before falling to the floor and spilling its guts. 

“You once loaned me fifty grand. Now I’m giving it back tenfold. Take the half a million, shut your mouth and get the hell out of here.”

His last words were like ice. A man who had clawed his way up from nothing—now all he cared about was his pride. I stared at the cash scattered at my feet and laughed. All my life, no one had ever dared try to humiliate me with money.

“Just half a million? What do you take me for, a beggar?”