The morning after the gala, everything blew up.
I woke up to Naomi's voice outside the guest room door. She sounded tense.
"They used the photo," she said. "Every outlet. It's everywhere."
I didn't need to ask which photo.
Ethan.
I stepped into the hallway. Naomi turned to me with a tablet. Headlines filled the screen.
"Billionaire's Bride or Pawn?"
"Who Is Ava Reynolds and Why Was Her Ex at the Gala?"
"Scandal Erupts in Kingsley Marriage."
One photo was everywhere, Ethan looking straight into the camera, and me in the background, caught off guard. I looked scared. Weak.
Damian walked up behind Naomi. His sleeves were rolled, his face sharp.
"We control it," he said. "No interviews. No statements. Just silence."
"Control what?" I asked.
He looked at me. "That we're married. That this isn't fake. That no one gets to come for you."
I wanted to believe him.
But I didn't.
I turned away. It felt hard to breathe. "I need air."
—
Lake Como sparkled under the sun like nothing had happened. I wore dark glasses, pulled my coat close, and slipped out the side gate, just for a break.
Just to feel normal.
I stopped at a small pharmacy. It was quiet inside.
But when I stepped back out, the quiet ended.
A crowd had formed. Tourists, maybe. But the shouting and flashing lights came fast.
"Ava! Are you still in love with Ethan Cole?"
"Did you lie to Damian?"
"Are you just chasing money between two billionaires?"
I froze.
How did they even know where I was?
"Back up!" someone yelled, but they didn't.
Cameras were in my face. A man bumped into me. Another grabbed my sleeve.
Panic hit fast.
Then a black car sped to the curb. The door flew open.
"Get your hands off my wife."
Damian.
He got out fast. His suit is perfect. His face was like stone. He grabbed my wrist firm, not rough and used his body to block them.
He opened the door, pulled me in, and got in after me.
The door slammed shut. Silence filled the car.
I looked at him, my chest tight.
"You followed me?"
He didn't meet my eyes. "Naomi tracked your phone."
Of course, she did.
He turned to me, his eyes blazing. "What were you thinking?"
"I wasn't trying to cause a scene."
"You went out alone. After that photo dropped."
"I just needed five minutes to breathe. Five minutes where I'm not your wife or a walking disaster."
He said nothing.
I looked away. "I'm not made for this. The cameras. The gossip. Being ripped apart like I'm nothing."
"You can't break down now," he said. His voice was lower.
I let out a laugh. "Don't worry. I'll smile when I'm supposed to."
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "This isn't just about Ethan anymore. They're digging. And they won't stop."
I looked at him. "So what now? We pretend we're in love and hope that's enough?"
His eyes locked on mine. "We stop pretending this isn't war."
Silence fell.
It felt like I was on a chessboard, and I didn't know what pieces I had left.
"You should've told me," I said.
He looked confused. "Told you what?"
"That Ethan would be there. That this was more than just a photo op. It was bait."
Something shifted in his face.
He knew.
He'd known all along.
Not just about Ethan.
Everything.
Before we met. Before the contract. Before anything started.
My stomach dropped.
"You knew," I whispered. "You knew what he did to me."
He didn't say no.
He didn't even blink.
"Why?"
His voice was steady. "Because I needed leverage. Because I had no choice. And because Ethan was already after you. I wanted to stop him."
The air in the car felt heavy.
"So you used me."
"No."
"You saw a girl trying to save her sister and offered her a deal she couldn't say no to."
His jaw clenched. "I gave you a way out."
I shook my head. "You gave me a cage and called it freedom."
"You think I wanted this?" he shot back.
"You're not the one who gave up everything. My name. My life."
"No," he said. "But I gave up something else."
I stared at him.
"What?"
He didn't answer.
Maybe he didn't even know.
He still thought he had control. That this was business. That we'd go back to normal.
But something was changing.
Something neither of us were ready for.
—
Back at the villa, Naomi waited on the steps, tablet in hand.
"Two more sites posted the Ethan photo," she said. "And Helena just posted something about secrets and 'sick little sisters.'"
My blood ran cold.
"Lily—" I started.
"Still hidden," Naomi said quickly. "I've wiped everything."
Damian stepped closer. "We go quiet. No public events. I'll handle Helena."
I nodded, but I couldn't speak.
Inside the villa, the walls felt smaller.
This wasn't about keeping up appearances anymore.
This was survival.
And now I had to ask myself:
Who would I need to become to survive this?