Defending What’s Ours

Shayla

I feel my heart thundering in my chest as I pace the length of our living room. Chris is seated on the sofa, elbows resting on his knees, watching me intently. The tension in the air feels thick enough to cut with a knife. We've spent the past forty-eight hours in crisis mode: first came the news that Rebecca leaked details of my pregnancy, feeding the media frenzy now buzzing around us. Then Caroline launched a barrage of statements implying I lack the emotional stability or professional chops to handle my recent promotions. It's the kind of smear campaign that could end careers—if we let it. I pause my restless pacing to meet Chris's gaze.

"This is getting out of control. We can't handle this the old-fashioned way—trying to keep a low profile won't work anymore." Chris nods, running a hand through his hair.