The morning broke like a warning siren, sharp and merciless. Elise awoke to the relentless pinging of her phone. Her hand shook as she picked it up, already dreading the notifications that had been building overnight.
The headlines were worse than she could have imagined.
"Elise Dubois: Scandalous Past Surfaces Amid Marriage to Vincent Moreau"
"Secrets They Didn't Tell You About the Contract Bride"
"From University Controversy to Corporate Spy? Elise's Hidden Life Exposed"
The screen felt like it was burning her fingers. Her stomach churned as she scrolled through articles, each word a dagger. The story wasn't just about her; it was about her—and Vincent.
"They found it," she whispered, voice tight.
Clara appeared immediately, her expression pale. "They've dug everything up. Social media, blogs, even some financial sites are picking it up. This is bad, Elise—really bad."
Elise's gaze hardened. "No. Not bad. Deadly."
Before Clara could respond, the door opened. Vincent stepped in, impeccably dressed, but his eyes were dark with anger and calculation.
"We handle this together," he said simply, tone leaving no room for discussion.
Elise's hands trembled. "You think I—"
"Not think," Vincent interrupted. "Act."
---
At the Moreau Tower, the press had already arrived. Cameras flashed as soon as the limo doors opened, journalists shouting questions like bullets. Elise and Vincent moved forward, a single entity, though every step felt like walking into a firing line.
"Mrs. Moreau, your past—do you deny these claims?"
"Do you regret marrying Vincent Moreau?"
"Are you hiding more secrets?"
Vincent's hand rested lightly on Elise's lower back. Not touching her—claiming her—but shielding her. He spoke first.
"These allegations are lies. Elise Dubois is neither deceitful nor disloyal. She is my wife, and she deserves respect—not speculation."
The reporters barely paused before pressing harder. Elise felt the familiar tight coil of anger in her chest. She didn't turn to him; instead, she stepped forward herself, voice cutting through the chaos.
"You want truth? Here it is: I am not flawless. I have made mistakes. I have a past that I never intended to hide. But if anyone believes that a photograph, a rumor, or a whisper can define who I am today—they are wrong. My loyalty, my intelligence, and my integrity are not for sale. Not to the media. Not to my enemies. Not to anyone."
A stunned silence fell. Even Vincent, standing beside her, seemed taken aback by the strength of her words. Then, applause—a mixture of genuine admiration and journalistic awe.
---
Backstage, the flood of reporters faded into echoes, but the tension remained. Vincent rounded on her, voice low and clipped.
"You were reckless."
"I was honest," Elise shot back.
"You just made this worse. Someone wants you weakened, Elise. They want me distracted. And now you've painted a target on your back—and on mine."
Her pulse raced. "Then let's stop hiding. Tell me who."
He hesitated, a rare crack in his armor. "It's complicated. The people behind this—they're insiders. Ambitious, greedy, dangerous. They know you can't be touched legally, so they've used your history, twisted it, made it venom. And it's working."
Elise's stomach dropped. "My history? What do you mean?"
He ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face. "There's something in your past—a university scandal, minor but manipulable. They've dug, reconstructed, and framed it to make it catastrophic. You didn't think it could reach you here, did you?"
Her heart pounded. That night—years ago—her secret had been buried. She thought no one remembered. She thought no one could ever use it against her. Now it was weaponized.
---
The next hours were a blur of press conferences, statements, and public appearances designed to salvage their reputation. Elise and Vincent had to appear united, flawless, controlled—but every interaction was a battle.
During one particularly tense moment, Vincent whispered, "They'll try to break you. Don't let them."
"I'm not sure I can," she admitted, though barely audible.
"You can. Because I'm not letting them touch you." His hand brushed hers, accidental or deliberate she couldn't tell, but it sent a shiver through her. The intimacy was unbearable—and infuriating.
In the quiet moments, their eyes met, unspoken words passing between them. Elise wanted to argue, to push him away—but she couldn't. His presence was magnetic, suffocating, and… necessary.
---
By evening, the online storm had grown. Articles painted her as manipulative, opportunistic, a calculated bride hiding skeletons. But scattered among the attacks were posts praising her courage, her eloquence, her strength. For every wave of condemnation, there was a spark of support.
Then came the message. Unknown number:
"Secrets don't stay buried forever. Watch carefully. Your next move will cost you everything."
Elise froze, the weight of her past pressing down on her.
Vincent appeared behind her. His eyes caught the screen, then her face. "They've crossed a line," he said. "And now it's personal."
"Why would they—how would they know?" she whispered.
"They have their ways," he said grimly. "But we have ours too. And we're going to fight back."
---
That night, the two of them worked side by side, drafting statements, coordinating lawyers, and preparing for the next wave. For the first time, Elise realized the truth: she and Vincent were not just married—they were allies, locked in a battle against forces that wanted both of them destroyed.
Their hands brushed over documents, their shoulders touched while reviewing statements. The tension was electric, and Elise felt a strange pull she couldn't name. She hated the feeling, hated how necessary he had become—not just as a partner in the scandal, but as a presence she could not escape.
Vincent caught her gaze, the slightest smirk tugging at his lips. "You can't fight me, Elise," he murmured.
"I'm not trying to fight you," she shot back.
"You're lying," he said, voice low.
Her heart hammered. Perhaps she was.
---
The next morning brought a new wave. Anonymous tips leaked to journalists, questioning Elise's finances, her relationships, even her motives for marrying Vincent. The attack was relentless, precise, surgical. Each strike a reminder that her past could destroy her present.
Elise looked at Vincent, exhausted, trembling, but not defeated. "What now?"
"Now," he said, "we show them we are untouchable. We control the narrative—or we die trying."
Their eyes met, the air between them thick with unspoken acknowledgment. Not lovers. Not friends. Not enemies. Something undefined—but undeniable.
Outside, the city pulsed with anticipation. Inside, they prepared for the war that would either bind them together or tear them apart.
---
Cliffhanger Ending – Chapter 11
The enemies have weaponized Elise's past, escalating the scandal into a personal attack. As Vincent and Elise brace for the next strike, the hidden truth threatens not only their reputation but their very safety—and the line between hatred and desire blurs dangerously.