By morning, the photo of Alexander Knight kissing Emily Ross beneath the golden lights of the gala balcony had eclipsed every other headline.
"Knight's Ice Melts — CEO's Public Declaration of Love?"Overnight, the mysterious Mrs. Knight becomes the center of Manhattan's obsession.
The press called it romantic.The public called it iconic.But not everyone was applauding.
Emily sat at the breakfast counter, her phone vibrating endlessly beside her untouched coffee.
Alexander entered, freshly dressed in a crisp gray suit, and raised an eyebrow.
"You're not eating."
She didn't look up. "You should read the new comments."
He stepped forward and picked up her phone.
A comment thread was open beneath one of the media reposts:
"She's a fraud.""Didn't her father steal millions?""Guess Knight has a thing for criminals.""This won't end well."
Emily's voice was flat. "They're digging up the past. And this time, it's not just about me. It's about my family."
Alexander's jaw tightened. "Then let them."
She turned sharply. "Excuse me?"
He walked around the counter, voice calm but sharp. "Let them dig. Let them gossip. But you don't cower. Not this time."
She stood. "You don't understand. My father's case is still pending. There are reporters already camped outside my mother's house. This isn't just tabloid gossip. It's personal."
Alexander met her eyes. "Then we make it political."
She blinked. "What?"
"We take the power back," he said. "We grant one exclusive interview. You tell your side. On our terms."
She shook her head. "I'm not like you. I don't fight battles with press releases and damage control teams."
"No," he said softly, "you fight with honesty. That's why they'll believe you."
Two days later, Emily sat across from the most respected lifestyle journalist in New York — Vanessa Moreau.
Lights. Cameras. Silence.
Vanessa smiled gently. "Mrs. Knight, thank you for agreeing to this. I know this is... personal."
Emily took a deep breath.
"No question is off-limits," she said. "Let's get it over with."
And so, for the first time, she told the truth.
How her father had run a fund that collapsed in a scandal.How she'd gone from designer gowns to eviction notices.How "friends" disappeared, and how love abandoned her when her name lost its shine.And how Alexander Knight offered her a contract marriage to help her rebuild.
But how, somewhere along the way, the contract had become something else.
Something real.
When the interview aired, it exploded.
The public didn't cancel her.
They connected with her.
"She owned her past.""Finally, a woman who doesn't hide behind the man.""Knight and Ross are the new definition of power couple."
And perhaps most importantly:
"We believe her."
That night, Emily sat on the rooftop terrace of their penthouse, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, city lights blinking like distant stars.
Alexander stepped beside her, two mugs in hand.
"Hot chocolate," he said. "No caffeine. Doctor's orders."
She took the cup, smiled faintly. "I'm not dying."
"You looked like you might, when the interview aired."
She sipped. "I've never said all that aloud before."
"You didn't have to. But you did. And they saw you."
She looked at him. "They also saw you."
He raised an eyebrow.
She continued, "You could've denied everything. Said the kiss was a stunt. That the marriage is still a business. But you didn't."
He set his mug down. "Because it's not business anymore."
Silence.
Then Emily whispered, "What is it now?"
Alexander turned to her. "It's a risk."
She stared at him.
"And I'm willing to take it," he added. "With you."
A pause.
Then she leaned her head against his shoulder.No words.No kiss.Just warmth.
For the first time in years, Emily felt the noise of the world grow quiet.