Chapter 16: Silenced Without Asking
(Florida's POV)
The headlines were gone.
Florida blinked twice at her phone screen, refreshing the same news page again and again.
No articles.
No photos.
No comments.
It was like the storm had never happened.
No one was calling her a mystery wife.
No one was praising her dress or criticizing her expression.
No one was saying anything at all.
It felt… worse.
Like someone had reached into her life and wiped it clean — without asking if she wanted it gone.
She sat on the edge of the bed, phone resting in her lap.
> Was it him?
Bryant hadn't called. Hadn't texted. Hadn't come home.
Of course he hadn't.
He didn't need to.
He had people for that.
People who erased things.
People who handled "mistakes."
Her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't a notification.
It was a call.
Unknown number.
She hesitated.
Then answered.
A cool female voice met her ear. "Mrs. Kings?"
Florida didn't reply.
"This is Natalie Hill, from Public Affairs. Just confirming the situation is handled. No further action needed from your end. But please avoid future interactions that attract unnecessary attention."
Florida's brows lifted slightly. "I didn't post the picture."
"Yes, of course," the woman said smoothly. "Still — in case of future events, it's best to avoid overexposure. Your current status is... private, after all."
The line clicked off.
Florida lowered the phone slowly.
Your current status is private.
She felt her stomach twist — not from panic, but from something deeper. Something quieter.
> They didn't even ask if she was okay.
They just wanted her to stay invisible again.
---
She walked to the closet and pulled out her small work satchel — the one no one knew about.
Inside was her sketchbook and a flash drive.
For months, she'd been drafting designs in secret — soft silhouettes, bold lines, clean cuts. Nothing loud. Just her voice, spoken in fabric.
Tonight, she opened the sketchbook and flipped to her favorite design — a structured black midi dress with a high neckline and flared cuffs. She'd drawn it during her loneliest week here.
Her hand moved to the flash drive, fingers hovering.
She had been building a digital portfolio in silence — no name, no photo. Just a submission under the alias: "FLD."
> Florida had always wanted to be seen.
But only when it was on her own terms.
She opened her laptop, heart thudding.
Not as his wife.
Not as a scandal.
Not as the woman beside the Ice Prince.
But as herself.
She attached three designs and hit send.
Just one small submission.
Anonymous.
To a mid-level independent designer contest.
Nothing loud.
Just enough to remember what it felt like to move.
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End of Chapter 16
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