Bitter Sweet Love with My Stepbrother CEO-Chapter 45: What She Sold Herself For

The lounge of the bar was too beautiful for someone like her.

Everything gleamed—polished marble floors, gold-edged glass tables, low amber lights that softened sharp edges and made even sins look elegant. Music pulsed beneath the hum of quiet conversations, just loud enough to drown out honesty.

Diane Jenkins stepped inside as if she belonged there.

Her heels clicked confidently against the floor, posture straight, chin lifted. Anyone watching would have seen a woman in control—expensively dressed, perfectly styled, unbothered.

Only she knew how hard it was not to look around.

Not to search for familiar faces.

Not to flinch at the thought that someone might recognize her—not as Joseph Hamilton’s fiancée, not as a Jenkins heiress, but as what she had become.

Disposable.

She slid into a seat at the bar and ordered a drink she couldn’t afford without glancing at the price.

This is temporary, she told herself.

Everything is temporary.

The glass was cold in her hand when it arrived. She didn’t drink it immediately. She watched the reflections in its surface instead—the fractured versions of herself staring back.

Joseph’s face intruded without permission.

The way he had looked at her during that meeting—controlled, distant, resolved. No anger. No hesitation.

He had already let her go.

Her grip tightened around the glass.

"I will not lose everything," she whispered under her breath.

Not him.

Not the status.

Not the life she had been promised.

She lifted the glass and drank.

She didn’t see him arrive.

That should have unsettled her more than it did.

One moment, the seat across from her was empty. The next, someone occupied it—presence solid, undeniable, as if the space had always been his.

Sebastian Vale did not look at her right away. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

He reviewed something on his phone with unhurried attention, as though she were an afterthought. His suit was dark, immaculate, tailored to precision. No visible jewelry. No ostentation.

Power didn’t need decoration.

Diane waited.

Seconds stretched.

Her pulse ticked louder with each one.

Finally, he looked up.

His eyes were calm. Appraising. Not curious.

Knowing.

"You’re late," he said.

Diane stiffened. "You didn’t give a time."

A faint smile touched his lips—not amused, not pleased.

"People who are desperate arrive early," he replied.

The words landed with surgical precision.

She swallowed. "You wanted to see me?"

"I wanted to observe you," Sebastian corrected.

She bristled. "And?"

"And now I have."

He set his phone down slowly, giving her his full attention at last. It felt like being placed under a microscope.

"You’ve been quiet lately," he continued. "Disowned. Disengaged. Disgraced."

Each word fell cleanly.

Diane’s nails dug into her palm beneath the bar.

"You’ve fallen quite far," he said calmly. "But you still have your use."

Her breath caught.

"You know who I am?" she said.

Sebastian tilted his head slightly. "I know exactly who you are."

They didn’t exchange pleasantries.

Sebastian Vale had no interest in them.

"You were close to Hamilton Group," he said. "Intimately. You have been in their inner circle."

Diane scoffed. "You make it sound—"

"Strategic," he interrupted. "Which it was."

She hesitated.

He leaned back slightly, one arm draped along the back of the seat, posture relaxed but dominating the space between them.

"You know their marketing pipelines," he continued. "Their hospitality expansion plans. Their supplier contracts. Their vulnerabilities."

She stared at him. "And what if I do?"

"Then you have value to me," Sebastian replied. "Because if you don’t, you’re just wasting my time."

Her heart pounded.

"I want Joseph Hamilton ruined," she said suddenly. "I want Yvette Matthews erased from his life."

Sebastian’s gaze sharpened—not in surprise, but interest.

"So it’s personal," he said. "How predictable."

She flushed. "I loved him."

"Love is irrelevant," he replied flatly. "It is only useful when it motivates."

He leaned forward slightly now, closing the distance by inches.

"What you need to offer to me isn’t revenge," he said. "What I need is access to business secrets."

Diane exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of her decision pressing down on her chest.

"I know how the Hamilton Group thinks," she said. "I know where they’re strong—and where they’re careless."

Sebastian studied her for a long moment.

Then he nodded once.

"Good," he said. "Then let’s be honest."

His hand moved—slow, deliberate—and rested lightly against her wrist.

Not affectionate.

Possessive.

"You’re not here to negotiate," he continued quietly. "You’re here to be used."

Diane didn’t pull away.

The music swelled around them, oblivious.

"I can give you protection," Sebastian said. "Resources. Relevance. A seat at a different table."

Her voice trembled. "And in return?"

His fingers tightened imperceptibly.

"In return," he said, "you belong to me, and you can have your revenge using my assets."

Silence stretched between them—thick, suffocating.

Diane nodded.

Once.

Sebastian did not wait for her to elaborate.

He never asked questions that required answers.

Instead, he stood.

The simple act shifted the atmosphere around them. Conversations nearby quieted without anyone realizing why. The bartender straightened. The air itself seemed to recalibrate to his presence.

"Come," Sebastian said.

It wasn’t a request.

Diane followed him through a private corridor hidden behind a mirrored wall. The noise of the lounge faded instantly, replaced by silence padded with thick carpet and muted lights.

They entered a smaller room—intimate, controlled, intentionally sparse. A single couch. A low table. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the city below, glittering like something alive and predatory.

Sebastian poured himself a drink without asking if she wanted one.

"You’re familiar with my company?" he said casually, handing her a glass anyway.

"Vale International Hospitality Group," Diane replied. "Luxury hotels. Private resorts. Aggressive acquisitions."

"And second place in the market," he corrected. "For now."

His tone suggested inevitability, not ambition.

"My father built this company with restraint," Sebastian continued, settling into a chair opposite her. "Legacy and reputation. All with clean hands."

He took a sip of his drink, eyes never leaving her.

"It was dying when he handed it to me." he continued.

Diane listened, every nerve on edge.

"And I saved it," Sebastian said simply. "Not with ideals. But with sure results."

"And what about the rumors about you?" she asked before she could stop herself.

He smiled then—not warmly.

"Rumors exist to keep people guessing," he replied. "Fear is cheaper than advertising."

She felt a chill trace her spine.

"I have heard about illegal deals," she pressed. "People disappearing."

Sebastian’s gaze sharpened.

"People who threaten stability tend to remove themselves," he said calmly. "Sometimes permanently."

The way he said it made it clear he was not speaking metaphorically.

Diane’s fingers tightened around her glass.

"And your role," Sebastian continued, as if discussing something mundane, "will be to ensure Hamilton Group makes the kind of mistakes they won’t recover from."

Her heart raced.

"I can give you information," she said. "Campaign timelines. Brand vulnerabilities. Internal rivalries. You name it."

"I know," he said.

She frowned. "You... know?"

He leaned forward slightly.

"I’ve been observing Hamilton Group for years," Sebastian said. "Joseph Hamilton is competent. Principled. But predictable."

Her lips curled. "And Yvette Matthews?"

Sebastian paused.

"She is irrelevant to me," he said. "A temporary obstacle that already removed herself from the board."

His eyes flicked back to Diane.

"You," he continued, "are my entry point. And if you want revenge, then you can do so with my resources."

Sebastian stood again, moving closer until Diane could smell his cologne—subtle, expensive, almost nonexistent.

He took her glass from her hand and set it aside.

"You don’t need to perform," he said. "I already know what you’re worth."

His fingers brushed her jaw, tilting her face upward.

Not gentle.

Not cruel.

Measured.

"You were discarded," he said. "By your father. By Hamilton."

Her breath hitched.

"I won’t discard you," Sebastian continued. "As long as you remain useful."

The words should have repulsed her.

Instead, they grounded her.

"You’ll have resources," he said. "Protection. Access to networks your father could never touch."

His thumb traced the line of her cheek slowly.

"And in return," he added, "you don’t lie to me. You don’t withhold anything. And you don’t forget who gave you relevance when no one else would."

Diane nodded again.

The decision settled into her bones.

Later—she wasn’t sure how much time had passed—Diane sat beside him on the couch, her thoughts spiraling between fear and something dangerously close to validation.

Sebastian checked his phone, unconcerned.

"You still love Joseph Hamilton," he said abruptly.

The statement struck like a slap.

"I—"

"Yes," he continued. "You do."

She swallowed. "I hate him."

Sebastian smiled faintly.

"Hate is just love that learned to survive rejection," he said. "It’s far more motivating."

He turned to her fully then, studying her with unsettling interest.

"You’ll help me dismantle Hamilton Group," he said. "But Yvette Matthews—she’s yours."

Diane’s eyes widened.

"You want me to—"

"No," Sebastian interrupted. "I want you to focus."

He leaned in close, voice dropping.

"Break Joseph," he said. "And Yvette will break with him."

Something dark unfurled in Diane’s chest.

She nodded slowly.

When Diane finally left the penthouse, the city felt different.

Sharper.

More hostile.

In her pocket, a new phone vibrated—a single number already saved.

Sebastian Vale.

A message appeared.

I’ll contact you when I need you.

She stared at the screen, a strange sense of triumph bubbling beneath the dread.

She had power again.

She had protection.

She had purpose.

Behind her, high above the city, Sebastian watched her departure through the glass.

His phone rested in his hand.

"She thinks she sold information," he murmured.

His reflection stared back at him—cold, controlled, satisfied.

"She sold herself." he said.

The city lights blinked below, indifferent witnesses to a deal that would ruin lives.