The morning after the boardroom battle, the world woke with claws.
I knew the second I stepped into the office—the way phones buzzed incessantly, the way assistants whispered in frantic clusters, the way every screen in the lobby flashed the same bold headline:
BLACKSTONE'S SECRETARY-TURNED-WIFE: CORPORATE SCANDAL OR LOVE STORY?
My stomach dropped.
It wasn't just gossip anymore. This was blood in the water, and the sharks had scented it.
On the massive LCD screen, a picture of me filled the frame: leaving the courthouse in yesterday's wedding dress, eyes defiant, lips pressed tight as if holding in a scream. Beside me, Adrian looked carved from stone, his hand gripping mine like chains.
The captions cut deeper than knives:
"Was she his mistress all along?"
"Heiress of a ruined empire—did she marry for revenge?"
"Blackstone trading business acumen for beauty?"
Heat crawled up my neck, equal parts shame and rage.
I forced my steps steady, but I could feel the stares burning. Every click of my heels echoed like gunfire.
And then—Claudia's voice. Smooth as silk, sharp as glass.
"Well, well," she drawled as I passed. "The world moves fast, doesn't it? One day a secretary, the next day a scandal."
I stopped. Turned. Met her eyes.
Her smile was wide, calculated, dripping venom. She held up her phone, the article open, my face glaring back at me. "Tell me, Elena. How does it feel to be famous for all the wrong reasons?"
The urge to slap the device out of her hand nearly consumed me.
Instead, I squared my shoulders. "It feels like someone is threatened enough to cling to headlines instead of relevance."
Her smile cracked. Just a little.
"Careful," she purred. "You might start to believe you belong here."
Before I could reply, a shadow fell across us both.
Adrian.
The corridor hushed instantly, as if the air itself obeyed him.
His gaze swept the crowd, then landed on Claudia. "In my office. Now."
She stiffened, lips parting as if to protest. But one look at him silenced her. She brushed past me, heels clicking, the scent of her perfume lingering like poison.
Adrian didn't move. His storm-gray eyes fixed on me.
"Inside," he said.
I hesitated. "You mean me too?"
"Yes, Elena. Especially you."
The office door shut with a heavy thud, sealing us inside.
Claudia stood stiffly near the desk, her arms crossed. I hovered by the window, refusing to let Adrian's presence pull me in.
He moved to his chair, fingers brushing the edge of a newspaper spread across the desk. The headline screamed in bold:
BLACKSTONE MARRIES HIS SECRETARY. CORPORATE POWER PLAY OR ROMANTIC WHIM?
He looked between us, his expression carved from granite. "Which one of you leaked it?"
Claudia's laugh was soft, mocking. "Oh, Adrian. You give me too much credit. The press doesn't need help inventing scandals when you hand them one on a silver platter."
His jaw tightened. "Don't test me."
Her eyes glittered. "Why? Afraid your precious little wife can't handle the heat?"
My fists clenched. "Say one more word—"
"Elena." Adrian's voice cut sharp, halting me.
I snapped my head toward him, fury bubbling in my veins. "She's tearing me apart in front of everyone and you're telling me to stop?"
For the first time, his composure cracked. He slammed the paper down, the sound echoing like thunder.
"This marriage is not a joke!" His voice was steel, raw and commanding. "Every whisper, every headline, every insult—whether you like it or not—reflects on me. On us."
Silence swallowed the room.
Claudia's smirk faded, but only slightly. She tilted her head, her words aimed like arrows. "Then maybe you should have married someone who could survive the battlefield."
Something in me snapped.
I stepped forward, my voice shaking but sharp as glass. "And maybe you should focus less on his choices and more on your own. Because last I checked, loyalty wasn't something you could fake forever."
Her face stiffened. A crack in the flawless mask.
Adrian rose, the energy in the room shifting dangerously. "Enough."
His gaze cut to Claudia. "Get out."
She faltered—just for a second—before collecting her bag and sweeping out, her heels punctuating her anger.
The door shut. Silence fell again.
I was trembling, my chest heaving, but I refused to let him see weakness.
Adrian's eyes burned into me. "Do you enjoy making enemies?"
"She drew first blood," I spat. "What was I supposed to do—bow my head? Pretend I didn't hear her tearing me apart?"
His expression darkened. He closed the distance between us in three slow steps, until I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
"You're supposed to be smarter than her," he murmured. "Stronger. Not reckless."
My heart pounded against my ribs. "You think this is about strength? You've chained me to you, Adrian. You've taken everything I had left. And now you want me to play your perfect wife while the world calls me a whore?"
His jaw tightened. His hand lifted—hesitated—then dropped, curling into a fist at his side.
"I didn't chain you," he said, his voice low, dangerous. "I gave you a crown. Whether you wear it or let it strangle you—that's your choice."
The air between us vibrated with fury, pain, and something else—something darker, hungrier.
Before I could respond, his phone buzzed.
He glanced at it, his eyes narrowing. Then he looked at me.
"Cancel your afternoon schedule. You're coming with me."
I blinked. "Where?"
His lips curved—not in amusement, but in warning.
"To remind the world exactly who you are."
The car ride was silent, the city flashing past in streaks of steel and glass. My thoughts churned, torn between fury and fear.
Where was he taking me?
When the car stopped, my answer hit me like a blow.
A hotel. Not just any hotel—the Imperial Grand, a palace of power and scandal. Paparazzi swarmed outside like locusts, their cameras flashing even before the car doors opened.
I turned to him, panic rising. "You can't be serious."
His storm-gray eyes locked on mine. "Walk with me, Elena. And don't let them see you break."
The door opened. The world roared.
"Adrian! Over here!"
"Is it true you married her in secret?"
"Elena! Did you seduce him for power?"
The flashes blinded me. The questions cut deep. But Adrian's hand closed over mine, firm and unyielding, guiding me through the chaos.
Every step felt like walking a tightrope over fire.
Inside, the cameras couldn't follow, but the whispers still did. Heads turned, conversations halted.
And then I saw her.
Sitting at the grand bar, legs crossed, wine glass in hand.
Tall, elegant, her beauty sharp enough to wound.
Adrian's ex.
The woman the media had once crowned as his future.
Her lips curved as she spotted us. "Well, well. The happy couple."
My chest tightened. The battlefield had only just begun.