Soren straightened, a quiet unease settling in.
"I have an insider," she continued. "Several brand owners and fashion publicists have agreed to pull out of the upcoming Fashion Week Gala if Hyacinthia doesn't publicly denounce Mr. Ryley Schwartz-Aldric as a model and ambassador."
Soren's grip on the phone tightened.
"It's because of the recent scandal surrounding his foundation," she added. "They're waiting for a clear stance."
***
Meanwhile, far from the noise condemning him, Ryley tightened his grip on Clyde's hand and tugged him forward, leading him through the gates of their old mansion—Shelter Bay.
Clyde's brows lifted in surprise. He didn't ask why. The moment they stepped inside, the weight of the place—the memories, the quiet familiarity—settled over him, drowning out every question he might've had.
Ryley guided him up the staircase, then into the study on the second floor, still carefully kept, still unchanged.
