Damage Control

Clara sat frozen, her fingers limp against the side of her phone.

The article from the verified outlet was spreading fast. Within minutes, her name was trending. Not in the way she had once dreamed of as a young artist hoping to make her mark, but in a way that felt violating. Ruthless. Public.

Julian stood beside her, but the air between them had shifted. He was no longer just her husband. He was a CEO calculating impact. Damage. Risk. His eyes flicked over the screen again and again, reading every line, every insinuation, every malicious twist of their truth.

"This wasn't just a leak," he said, voice low. "This was planned."

Clara nodded, numb. She didn't know how to breathe with a hundred strangers dissecting her life, her body, her choices. The baby had not even arrived, and already it had become headline fodder.

She looked up slowly. "What do we do now?"

Julian's jaw tightened. "We respond. Carefully. I will speak to legal and PR. You will stay here. Do not go online. Do not talk to anyone."

Something in her chest twisted at his tone. Protective, yes. But also cold. As if she had become another piece in a crisis strategy.

"I'm not some delicate scandal you need to manage," she said, quieter than she intended.

He paused, barely turning his head. "I never said you were."

"No, but that's how you're acting."

Julian sighed and sat beside her, reaching out but not quite touching her. "This is how I keep you safe. It's how I've always handled threats. You're not the problem, Clara. You are the target. That's why this feels impersonal. Because I'm trying to outthink the people who want to ruin you."

Her eyes filled, but she blinked them clear. "And if they already have?"

He looked at her for a long moment. "Then we remind them who they're dealing with."

Clara didn't answer. She didn't know yet who she was dealing with either.

Not Vincent. Not just the media. But the new version of herself forming under pressure.

And she wasn't sure who she would become when the fire finally cleared.

The next morning, Clara woke to the sound of her name being spoken on the television.

Not just spoken.

Debated. Picked apart.

"… known for her illustrations in children's literature, but recent developments suggest a far more complicated connection to Blackwell Capital's CEO, Julian Blackwell. This morning, the board is expected to release a statement—"

Julian switched off the screen before she could hear the rest.

Clara sat up slowly, her hair still tangled from a restless night. "Don't do that. Don't shield me."

"I'm not shielding you. I'm buying us time."

She swung her legs off the bed. "Time for what?"

"For me to fix this."

Julian had already dressed. His tie was half done, and there was a tightness to his movements, as though his entire body had coiled into strategy mode. His phone buzzed again. He ignored it.

"You can't fix it," Clara said softly. "Not all of it."

Julian didn't answer immediately. He walked over and knelt down in front of her. "They think this will break you. That it will break us. It won't."

"I don't want to hide," she said, her voice trembling. "I won't be someone you keep in the shadows until this dies down. I want to speak. To say something."

Julian looked at her, the edges of his expression softening. "You're not hiding. But we have to be careful. The press isn't kind. They don't care about truth. They care about spectacle."

She reached for his hand. "Then let me decide what I can take."

Julian hesitated. Then he nodded.

"There's a statement being prepared. But if you want to say something on your own, I'll back you. Just not alone. Not without someone who understands how vicious this can get."

Clara nodded. "I'll speak to Harper."

Julian blinked. "Harper?"

"She's not just my friend. She knows media. She's worked behind the scenes. I trust her."

He nodded once. "Alright. We do this on your terms. But I'll be watching. Not to control, just… to make sure you're not standing alone when the next headline drops."

She didn't say it, but part of her already felt alone.

Even with his support, Clara knew the coming days would test more than just their relationship.

It would test her identity.

Her choices.

And the strength of the woman she was still becoming.

By late afternoon, Harper arrived at the penthouse, carrying her laptop, a notepad, and that sharp look in her eyes Clara hadn't seen in years.

"The media's spinning three angles," Harper said, flipping open her notes. "One, you're some gold-digger who trapped Julian. Two, this is an internal power play at Blackwell Capital. And three, the pregnancy is a distraction from an upcoming merger."

Clara blinked. "What merger?"

Julian looked up from his phone. "It's confidential. Or it was."

"Then someone's leaking from inside," Harper said. "That article this morning? Too many precise details. Someone wants you both publicly destabilized."

Clara pressed a hand to her chest. "Why now?"

"Because you're too close to something. Or someone doesn't want you to get closer."

They worked for hours. Harper coached Clara on how to speak calmly if ambushed. They drafted a brief, heartfelt public statement. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to reclaim her voice.

But as they reviewed it for the last time, Julian's phone buzzed again.

He read the message silently, his entire body tensing.

"What is it?" Clara asked, walking over.

Julian showed her the screen.

It was a forwarded email.

Anonymous sender. Subject line: "If you don't walk away, the next leak is about your mother."

Clara's stomach dropped.

Julian's mother had been gone for over a decade.

"What do they mean?" she asked.

Julian's mouth opened, but no sound came out. His fingers gripped the phone like it was the only thing holding him upright.

"Julian," Clara said again, more firmly now. "What happened to her?"

This time, he met her eyes.

And what she saw there wasn't fear.

It was guilt.

Real. Deep. Devastating.

Clara took a step back, her breath catching in her throat.

Because whatever secret had been buried all this time...

It had just come back to the surface.

And it was about to shatter everything.