Ophelia's POV,
She straightened her shoulders and nodded to the nearest security guard. "Take her away. Now. Harassing the wife of Dante Vaughn isn't just rude, it's illegal."
Isla sputtered, shrieking, but the men didn't hesitate. They escorted her out, her heels clacking like broken promises.
Rhea turned toward me, her smile wide and warm, a lifeline in the storm of flashing cameras and murmurs. I returned it, faint but real, and together we left the hall.
Outside, the world screamed at us through shutters and lenses.
Reporters shouted questions about my past, my body, my ambition, my "secret plan to trap Dante." I didn't answer. I didn't breathe. I felt every stare like a pinch on raw skin.
In the car, Rhea drove, calm, collected. I sat at the far end of the car, away from Dante. I could feel his eyes on me and I knew why. He didn't know this version of me. But then… he doesn't know any version of me.
"Tension is radiating off both of you," Rhea said, eyes glancing in the rearview. "I've missed you, you know"
I pressed my palms against my lap, jaw tight. "Drop me at my office," I said, voice cold.
Once we arrived, I called Eden and Calista immediately. Rhea introduced herself smoothly as my cousin while Dante said nothing, watching the city slide past his window like a detached observer.
Eventually, he left, silence heavy, leaving me alone with Rhea. I sigh, watching him leave without looking at me. All emotions from the kiss dissipated like it never even existed.
"I heard about you," Rhea said quietly. "The Ophelia Moretti who rose through the ranks. You've made waves."
Her eyes glimmered with something between admiration and disbelief. "I also know you and Dante cannot be marrying for love. I know what you're capable of."
I let out a slow breath, willing myself not to cry and told her everything. My father's death. Liora's betrayal. The humiliation. The fight to survive and build. By the time I finished, Rhea's tears were falling freely.
"You're the strongest woman I've ever seen," she whispered. "And I'm so glad I slapped Isla for you."
Calista and Eden joined us thirty minutes later, grave faces looming.
"The damage is worse than we expected," Calista said. "The press is already rewriting your story. Two-year gap, surgery rumors, alleged trapping of Dante. The photo. Someone posted it online despite Dante's warnings."
I felt my chest tighten, fury crawling up my spine.
"I didn't—I didn't steal anything!" My voice cracked, rising over the noise in my head. I could feel my hands trembling, fists curling and uncurling at my sides. "I rebuilt myself. I worked. I earned every damn thing I have, and no one, absolutely no one, is allowed to paint me like some… some opportunist!"
My chest ached. The words hurt me almost as much as the world's whispers, the way they had already written my story without asking me for a single truth. They thought they knew me. That I was shallow, hungry for attention. That I'd manipulated my way to the top.
I swallowed hard, trying not to choke on the anger and hurt swirling in my throat.
"I came out for attention? For what—to be seen?!" I shouted, each word jagged, sharp enough to cut. "Do they think it's easy to fight for every scrap of respect? To claw back your life after everything's been taken from you?!"
My vision blurred. My chest heaved, tears threatening to spill, because I wasn't just yelling at them, I was yelling at the injustice of it all. The world hates effort when it comes from women like me. It hates women who dare to be ambitious, who refuse to shrink, who refuse to let the narrative be written for them.
"I didn't steal power!" I repeated, voice shaking now, almost sobbing. "I earned it! Every piece, every victory, every bloody inch… I fucking earned!"
I felt the weight of their silence pressing down on me, the kind of judgment that had nothing to do with envy and everything to do with truth.
I was devastated. I was angry. And worst of all…I was tired.
"Go home, Ophelia," Eden urged softly. "By tomorrow, the frenzy will have died down. You just need to rest."
I nodded reluctantly, letting them guide me, the weight of their concern heavy but grounding.
~ ~
At Dante's mansion, I stepped inside and froze. Dante and his mother were mid-argument. His mother's voice, sharp and venomous, cut through the hallway.
"She planned it," she spat, pointing an accusing finger in my direction like she knew I was there. "Lost weight, had surgery, trapped the handsome billionaire. Funny how her success only came after she attached herself to a powerful man."