Miller didn't know, but a digital storm was brewing around her. A lot of people that had been hiding during the attack had captured the chaotic scene from that afternoon on their phones, and the videos were now spreading like wildfire across social media platforms. At first, viewers were simply mesmerized and shocked by the dramatic events, the white van screeching to a halt, the swarm of rough-looking men surrounding a lone lady, and the sudden, precise gunfire from uniformed men on nearby rooftops. The footage played out like a scene from an action movie, catching the public's attention, many very concerned about the dead and injured people.
However, the narrative quickly shifted when sharp-eyed observers made a crucial connection. They recognized the convoy of black cars and the highly disciplined, professional guards who arrived on the scene later to escort the lady away as Devion Montgomery's elite security team. The focus zeroed in on the subject of the entire ordeal: a young woman with short blonde hair, dressed in casual, boyish clothing—a tomboy, obviously. Speculations swarmed the internet, with countless users speculating that this must be Devion's mysterious wife. The public's curiosity turned wild as they tried to find anything about Miller, searching for social media accounts, digital traces, or any clue to her identity, but they found nothing. Miller had no internet presence; she wasn't active on social media at all. This complete lack of information only heightened the speculation, making many even more curious about what had truly transpired between Adele and Devion to lead to this point.
---
Adele was enjoying a private spa day with her mother, seeking comfort in the luxurious treatments, when she stumbled upon the viral news online. The revelation that Nico's men had failed to capture Miller infuriated her. She knew with certainty that Devion's men hadn't been responsible for the sniper fire; he was too calculated to risk such a public, illegal display of force. This realization led her to a bitter conclusion: Devion's new wife must have another powerful man protecting her. The thought filled Adele with boiling anger and jealousy, especially when she contrasted it with her own experience; during her entire relationship with Devion, she had never been assigned an elite guard for personal protection. The fact that this ordinary-looking tomboy received such preferential treatment was a galling insult.
Blinded by rage and without a second thought, Adele took to her social media account and posted, "That bitch stole Devion from me, bewitched my man, and married him." The moment she tapped "post," she switched off her phone, deliberately cutting herself off from the impending fallout. As she predicted, the internet officially went crazy. Her accusation spread instantly, adding explosive fuel to the already raging fire of public speculation. Lady Cecily, of course, had no idea what her daughter had just done. With no idea about the storm on the internet, she was fully immersed in her massage, focused only on easing the emotional stress of recent events.
One other person had seen the news exploding online: Devion. Ethan brought the viral stories to his attention, but the business tycoon was not concerned with public gossip or wild speculations. His mind was occupied by far more critical questions. Why was the first group, the one with the van, trying to kidnap Miller? And more importantly, who was the second, highly coordinated group on the rooftops? It was clear from the footage that their objective had been to save Miller, as their sniper fire was surgically precise, targeting only the kidnappers, and they had withdrawn the moment the immediate threat was neutralized and she was safe.
"What information did you find on these two groups?" Devion asked, his voice low and analytical.
Ethan, standing before the large desk, delivered his report. "The kidnappers are from a notorious crime organization operating within the country, led by Nico Marcelo. I ran a check and discovered the infiltrator at the estate, the one who had been posing as a gardener, was also from his organization. The surprising thing, though, is that Miss Miller has no discernible history with them at all, aside from these two recent incidents." He paused, his expression turning graver. "As for the other group... there was no information. All I was able to piece together was that they came from overseas, and their exit was very clean and left no traces at all. However, they did more than just disappear." Ethan presented his tablet to Devion. "They hacked into my system and left this."
On the screen was a single, blatant statement in stark, bold font: "Stop trying to investigate my people. You will know our identity soon anyways when I come for my wife, Miller."
Devion's face darkened, a storm gathering in his eyes. A possessive, primal anger flared within him at the stranger's words. "Who sent this?"
"No idea, sir. I couldn't trace the source or get any other information," Ethan admitted, his frustration evident.
Devion clenched his fist on the desk, the polished wood groaning under the pressure. For a reason he didn't care to examine, he viscerally hated the fact that this anonymous threat referred to Miller as his wife. He was the one legally married to Miller.
. Just then, Ethan spoke again, his tone cautious. "Sir, Miss Adele... she posted something online."
Devion's expression, already cold, turned to ice at the mention of her name. It only became truly stormy as he read her public allegation, the reckless accusation that could further endanger Miller and destabilize the situation. "Find out more about why Nico wanted Miller," Devion commanded, his voice dangerously calm. "And while you are at it, look into the relationship between Nico and Adele."
"Yes, sir," Ethan said, and promptly walked out of the study. Devion had wanted to spare Adele and forget everything that happened because of the feeling he once had for her and as long as everyone stayed in their lane, but it was becoming painfully clear that she had no intention of wanting to be spared.