Chapter 15: The Morning After the World Spoke
The morning after the interview felt unreal, like waking up inside someone else's life.
My phone vibrated nonstop on the bedside table, lighting up the dark room again and again. Notifications stacked faster than I could read them. Messages from numbers I didn't recognize. Emails marked urgent. News alerts arguing about my feelings like they were public property.
Lucien was already awake, sitting against the headboard with his laptop open, eyes tired but sharp. He hadn't slept much. I could tell by the way his jaw tightened every time a new headline appeared.
"What are they saying now?" I asked quietly.
He closed the laptop. "Enough."
I sat up, pulling the blanket around myself. "That bad?"
"That loud," he corrected. "There's a difference."
I reached for my phone and scrolled despite myself. Support poured in from strangers who saw themselves in me. Hate followed just as fast, cruel and relentless. Some called me brave. Others called me calculated. A few wished I would disappear altogether.
My chest felt tight.
"I didn't think words could hurt this much," I admitted.
Lucien took the phone from my hands and set it aside. "Words don't hurt," he said gently. "What people do with them does."
Downstairs, the house buzzed with tension. Security spoke in low voices. Advisors paced. Someone argued on the phone near the window.
Lucien stopped in the doorway. "Everyone out," he said calmly.
They hesitated.
"Now."
One by one, they left, the silence rushing back in behind them like a held breath finally released.
I leaned against the counter, suddenly exhausted. "Did I make things worse?"
Lucien crossed the room and stood in front of me. "You made things honest."
"That's not always the same as better."
"No," he agreed. "But it's the only way forward."
The doorbell rang.
Both of us froze.
Lucien's expression hardened. "Stay here."
"I'm not hiding," I said, surprising both of us.
He studied my face, then nodded. "Then stay close."
The woman who stood outside wore a professional smile and an expensive coat. Her eyes flicked to me briefly before settling back on Lucien.
"Mr. Blackwood," she said. "I represent your family."
"I know who you are," Lucien replied coolly. "State your purpose."
She clasped her hands. "We're concerned about the recent interview."
"Concern seems to be a popular word," I said softly.
Her gaze sharpened. "This situation is escalating."
"Because you're pushing it," Lucien said.
She ignored him and looked at me instead. "You're very young. You don't have to carry this."
"I wasn't asked before," I replied. "Why start now?"
A flicker of irritation crossed her face. "Public perception matters."
"Not more than my life," I said.
The woman inhaled slowly. "There will be consequences."
Lucien stepped forward. "Threats won't work."
"They aren't threats," she said smoothly. "They're forecasts."
She left without another word.
The door closed softly behind her.
I exhaled shakily. "That felt like a warning."
"It was," Lucien said. "And it won't be the last."
School was officially off the table. Administration cited safety concerns. Tutors were arranged without discussion. My world shrank to rooms and schedules and guarded doors.
By evening, frustration boiled over.
"I feel trapped," I said, pacing the living room. "Like I traded one cage for another."
Lucien watched me carefully. "Say it. Don't swallow it."
"I didn't choose this kind of protection," I snapped. "I chose you."
His voice softened. "And choosing me changed the rules."
"That's not fair."
"No," he agreed. "It isn't."
Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken fears.
"What if they win?" I asked quietly. "What if they break us slowly until there's nothing left to fight for?"
Lucien walked toward me, stopping close enough that I could feel his warmth. "Then we rebuild," he said. "But I won't let them take your voice."
Tears burned my eyes. "I don't want to be strong all the time."
He pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. "You don't have to be. You just have to be you."
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I stood by the window, watching the city lights flicker like distant stars, wondering how many people were talking about me at that exact moment, forming opinions that would never touch the truth.
Lucien joined me quietly.
"You know," he said, "power teaches people they're untouchable."
I looked at him. "Are they?"
"No," he replied. "They just forget what it costs to touch back."
I rested my head against his shoulder.
For the first time since the interview, fear shifted into something sharper.
Resolve.
They wanted me quiet. Manageable. Temporary.
But I wasn't temporary.
And as the city breathed beneath us, one thought settled deep inside my chest, steady and unyielding.
If the world insisted on watching, then I would make sure it saw me clearly.
Not as a headline.
Not as a strategy.
But as a girl who chose love, knew the cost, and refused to disappear anyway.