Page 134 of Claimed By The Other Brother

"Linda, I can explain—"

"Explain what? That you're having an affair with Dax Blackwell? Your client? The man whose company you were hired to represent?"

I close my eyes. "It's not—it's complicated."

"Complicated?" Her voice rises.

"Scarlett, he's not just your client. He's also your ex-fiancé's brother. Do you have any idea how this looks?"

"I know. I know it looks bad—"

"Bad? This is a nightmare. The New York office director called me an hour ago. The photos are everywhere. Every major publication, social media, gossip columns. This is horrible for Whitman Communications' reputation. Completely unethical."

Tears burn my eyes.

"Linda, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Your work has been exceptional, Scarlett. The MediaLink crisis is essentially resolved. But this?" She pauses.

"This makes us look like a joke. It undermines everything we stand for."

I'm pacing now, my free hand pressed against my stomach. The nausea is back, stronger this time.

"The firm is calling an emergency board meeting," Linda continues.

"New York and Chicago offices. We have to put you on leave, Scarlett. You violated our code of ethics. Until we decide what happens next, you're suspended."

"Linda, please—"

"Your contract was ending in less than a month anyway. The MediaLink work is wrapped up. But now we have another scandal on our hands. And this one might be ten times worse."

My vision blurs. A migraine is starting behind my eyes.

"I need you to go to Blackwell Media," Linda says, her tone clipped and professional.

"Pack up your things. Be discreet. Don't speak to anyone about the details. If press asks you anything, say 'no comment.' Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"And Scarlett." Her voice softens slightly.

"I need you back in Chicago. Before the end of the week. You have to meet with HR and the advisory board. We'll discuss next steps then."

"Okay."

"I'm disappointed, Scarlett. I really am."

The line goes dead. I drop the phone and run to the bathroom.

I'm on the floor, gripping the toilet, my whole body shaking. I throw up until there's nothing left, then sit back against the wall, lightheaded and cold. My phone is buzzing in the other room. Calls. Texts. Notifications.

I can't deal with any of it. Hours pass. I move from the bathroom to the couch to the bed, unable to focus on anything. Finally, my phone rings again.

Dax.

I answer immediately. "Dax—"

"Scarlett, I'm so sorry. I was in meetings all morning, but I got word of the news. Are you okay?"