The Fallout
714 Words
Harper
The next morning, the world felt quieter — but in the worst way. That kind of silence that sits heavy, charged with the promise of a storm.
By the time I reached the office, everyone had heard something. I could feel it in the way they looked at me — curious, speculative, whispering behind polite smiles. My victory over Vivienne at the event might have won me a moment’s pride, but it had clearly come with consequences.
Lila’s message came just as I sat down at my desk:
Lila: You’re trending.
Me: What?
Lila: Someone leaked a photo. You and Alexander. On the terrace last night.
My breath hitched. I quickly opened the link she sent — a grainy, zoomed-in image of Alexander standing too close, my face tilted toward him, the faintest ghost of a smile on my lips.
From the right angle, it looked… intimate. Intimate enough to start the kind of rumors Vivienne had been praying for.
The headline beneath it read:
“Alexander Cole’s Fiancée or Office Flame? Inside the Scandal That’s Shaking Cole Industries.”
My hands trembled as I lowered the phone.
⸻
By the time Alexander arrived, the damage was done. A PR storm had already begun. The board wanted a statement. Gossip outlets were hounding the press office. And Vivienne? She had vanished — silent, smug, invisible.
Emily knocked on my door, her expression apologetic. “Alexander wants to see you in his office.”
My stomach twisted.
Inside, he was pacing near the window, the city skyline blazing behind him. He turned the moment I stepped in, eyes hard but not unkind.
“You’ve seen it?”
I nodded. “Of course I have.”
He exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “They’re already calling. The board wants answers. The press wants an angle. I’ve told them nothing, but…”
“But they’ll assume the worst,” I finished for him.
He looked at me — really looked at me — and I could see the guilt buried beneath his calm exterior. “This is my fault. I should have been more careful.”
I shook my head. “No, Vivienne did this. She’s been trying to push me out from the start.”
His jaw tightened. “Then she’s made a serious mistake.”
⸻
We spent the rest of the morning damage-controlling, drafting statements, coordinating with PR. Every time our eyes met, I saw a flash of something raw in his expression — guilt, protectiveness… and maybe something else.
When the chaos finally settled for a moment, I stood near his desk, exhausted. “You know what’s worse than the rumors?” I said softly. “The fact that everyone wants to believe them.”
Alexander looked up, his eyes burning. “I don’t care what they believe. I only care that you’re okay.”
I swallowed hard, feeling something fragile c***k open inside me. “I’m fine,” I lied.
He stepped closer. Too close. “No, you’re not.”
I could feel the heat of his body, the sharpness of his gaze. “You shouldn’t—”
“Shouldn’t what?” His voice was low, controlled, dangerous. “Care?”
For a second, neither of us breathed. Then he exhaled, stepping back just enough to break the spell. “I’ll fix this. I promise you that.”
⸻
By late afternoon, the PR team had managed to reframe the story as a “private moment between a devoted couple,” which wasn’t entirely false… except for the “devoted” part.
But the tension didn’t fade. I couldn’t escape the feeling that Vivienne was watching from somewhere, enjoying the chaos she’d created.
That night, I returned home to find a single envelope on my doorstep — cream-colored, elegant, unmarked. Inside was a photograph.
Of me and Alexander.
Taken from the same night.
Only this time, it had been edited — my smile exaggerated, my hand angled toward him in a way that made it look like I was clinging to him. Beneath it, a note in looping handwriting:
“Careful, darling. Not everyone survives his world.”
My heart pounded as I read it again and again.
Vivienne wasn’t just playing social games anymore.
She was threatening me.
- Writer
