Sweet Love 2x: Miss Ruthless CEO for our Superstar Uncle-Chapter 108: Disclosure

Arianne’s study reflected her more than the rest of the house did.

The shelves were organized by topic, not for show, and the desk held only the files she was actively working on. She kept the lighting low to avoid glare on the wall-mounted glass frames. The windows looked out over the darker part of the estate grounds, past the courtyard lights. At night, the reflection inside was brighter than the view outside.

She took off her jacket and hung it on the back of her chair. The cuff of her blouse was folded unevenly at her wrist. A small stack of papers was open in front of her, with tidy notes written in the margins. Her pen rested on the edge of the page.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

She didn’t look up right away. "Come in."

Franz walked into the room and closed the door behind him. He moved away from the door and stopped a few feet from the desk.

"I need to brief you on something," he said.

She put down her pen and looked at him.

"Gio has been contacted."

Arianne didn’t react.

"About the day you visited the set."

Arianne stayed quiet and didn’t change her expression. She leaned back in her chair to give him space to speak.

"There’s a photograph," Franz paused. "It shows me leaving through the side entrance and getting into a vehicle. Someone took it from outside the secured area and cropped it. They sent out an anonymous tip suggesting my exit wasn’t planned."

"They’re asking him for monthly payments," he added. "In exchange for not sharing the photo."

The words settled between them.

"Who?" she asked.

Franz didn’t hesitate.

"His half-brothers."

That name carried weight she hadn’t needed to consider in years.

Her shoulders tightened.

She was quiet a moment. "Which one?"

Franz met her eyes. "Does it matter?"

"No." Her voice was flat. "They’re the same."

"They contacted him two weeks ago," Franz said. "He refused. Nothing is published yet. The draft hasn’t been sent. We’ve got the files."

Her fingers pressed a little harder on the desk, but it didn’t move.

"How far did it go?"

"Not far."

She looked at him. "Define not far."

"Demands. Refusal. No publication." He paused. "He didn’t engage."

She absorbed that. "He didn’t tell me."

"No."

"Why not?"

Franz held her gaze. "You’d have to ask him."

He stayed where he was. He did not sit down or move closer to the desk.

Arianne’s hand tightened on the desk. "I see."

"He planned to deal with it himself."

"He’s been doing that his whole life," she said quietly.

Her eyes shifted slightly, not toward Franz but to the edge of the desk where her hand rested.

"He doesn’t owe them," she said.

The words came out harder than she intended.

Franz didn’t flinch.

"No," he agreed. "He doesn’t."

Arianne pressed her palm flat against the desk. "He never did."

She stood, pushing her chair back. The legs scraped once before settling.

She walked around the desk to the window, catching her reflection before the dark beyond it.

"He considered paying?" she asked.

"He considered it," Franz replied. "He decided against it."

A faint breath escaped her, nearly silent.

"That was correct," she said.

She’d taught him that—how to refuse, how to hold. He’d learned.

She didn’t say it. But Franz watched her shoulders shift.

"You’re thinking about something," he said.

Arianne turned slightly. "I’m always thinking about something."

"About him."

She didn’t deny it.

Arianne loosely folded her arms across her waist to help her focus.

"Will they escalate?" she asked.

"They may try," came the reply.

"How quickly?"

"We’ll see."

"You’ll respond?" she asked.

"Yes."

She nodded once.

"Handle it," she instructed.

Her words carried trust without needing emphasis.

Franz nodded.

"I will."

Franz watched her from a distance. He stayed where he was, choosing to keep that space between them.

"They’re not subtle," he said.

"No," she replied.

She kept looking at her reflection in the glass. The courtyard lights shone steadily below. The estate looked the same as always.

They didn’t speak.

When she looked at him again, her face was calm.

"You told me now," she said.

"Yes."

"That’s appropriate."

She recognized the order of events.

Arianne walked back to the desk and placed her hand flat on it, fingers slightly spread as if to steady herself with the familiar surface. The earlier tension had faded.

"Has anyone else seen it?" she asked.

"No."

She nodded again.

"Then it is still contained."

For now.

Franz took his phone out of his pocket. He didn’t unlock it right away. Instead, he held it loosely in his hand.

"If it spreads," he said, "I’ll return it to you."

"You will," she replied.

He took a small step back, signaling that the talk was over without being abrupt. She did not try to stop him.

As he reached the door, she spoke again.

"Franz."

He paused.

"He made the right choice."

Franz understood who she meant. "Yes."

She looked at the window again. "He always does. That’s the problem."

"How is that a problem?"

She didn’t answer right away. Then: "Because he learned it from watching people leave."

Silence followed. Franz left her study and closed the door behind him.

The room became still again.

Arianne stood for several seconds longer than needed. The file on her desk stayed open to the same page. The pen lay where she had left it. She returned to her chair and sat down, but didn’t start reading right away. Her hand hovered over the margin before touching the paper. She traced the edge of a line she had underlined earlier, but didn’t add anything to it.

Her thoughts didn’t scatter. They realigned.

Gio’s half-brothers were distant figures in her mind, linked by their last name and shared inheritance. She had never thought of them as important. Now, they required attention.

She picked up her phone and checked for messages. There were none. She set it down and leaned back.

Earlier, the cuff of her blouse had folded unevenly, so she adjusted it without thinking, smoothing the fabric along her wrist.

A breeze moved through the trees at the edge of the property. The window glass vibrated slightly, enough to feel it.

She stood up and walked to the window again, this time looking past her reflection to the dark outline of the grounds. The lamps only lit what they were meant to light. Beyond that, the estate faded into darkness.

She kept her posture straight.

After a moment, she went back to the desk and closed the open file.

The room hadn’t changed.

The pressure remained.

She turned off the desk lamp, leaving only the softer wall light near the shelves. The room became a bit blurred in the dim light.

When she opened the door to the hallway, she saw Gio at the far end near the foyer, holding his tablet. He wasn’t waiting. He stood where he usually did at that hour, checking the schedule for the next day.

He looked up briefly when she entered the hallway.

Their eyes met.

"You’re still up."

"Yes."

"Working?"

"Finishing."

Arianne didn’t look back. But she felt him there—still, steady, holding his place in the house the way he held everything. The way she’d taught him.

He nodded.

She walked past him without stopping.

Behind her, the study door closed softly.

The lamp dimmed on its timer, leaving the study in shadow.