Chapter 28 — Standing in the Light
The meeting room at Nightwell Enterprises was all glass and steel—transparent by design. Kade had insisted on it. No shadows. No whispers. No misinterpretations.
Kiera sat beside him, hands folded neatly in her lap, spine straight. She wore a simple navy dress, nothing flashy, nothing apologetic. Her therapist's words echoed in her mind: You deserve to be seen without shrinking.
Across the table sat Carter Bell and a woman Kiera hadn't met before—Elena Ruiz, a crisis communications consultant. Calm. Sharp-eyed. Efficient.
"Before we begin," Carter said, "I want to confirm consent. Kiera, you are not obligated to be here."
Kiera lifted her chin. "I want to be."
Kade glanced at her, something like pride softening his expression.
Elena nodded approvingly. "Good. Then let's talk strategy."
The screen behind them lit up with a timeline—dates, messages, screenshots. Boundaries documented. Contracts revised. Schedules logged. Everything meticulous.
"Vivienne's angle is implication," Elena said. "She doesn't need proof—she needs noise. We counter with clarity."
"She wants to paint me as leverage," Kiera said quietly.
"And we refuse to let her," Kade replied, firm. "Kiera is not collateral."
Elena looked between them. "The best defense is consistency. You continue exactly as you have—professionally, transparently. No secrecy. No reaction."
Kiera nodded. "I can do that."
"You'll also need support," Elena added. "Public scrutiny can retraumatize. We'll limit exposure, but you should prepare."
Kade leaned forward. "I'll make sure she's not alone."
Elena met his gaze. "Good. But remember—standing with someone doesn't mean standing in front of them."
Kade absorbed that, then nodded.
The meeting concluded with handshakes and a sense of direction. When the room cleared, Kade turned to Kiera.
"You were incredible," he said softly.
She exhaled. "I was terrified."
"Both can be true," he said.
The article dropped that afternoon.
It wasn't explosive—but it was pointed.
Sources close to Nightwell Enterprises allege blurred lines between the billionaire CEO and a household employee following a broken engagement.
Kiera read it once. Then set her phone down.
Her chest tightened, but she breathed through it—slow, steady. She was learning this rhythm.
Kade found her on the balcony, wrapped in a cardigan, city wind tugging at her hair.
"I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I know we expected this, but—"
"It's okay," she interrupted gently. "I knew it would come."
He searched her face. "How are you really?"
She considered the question. "Shaken. But… steady."
He nodded. "That's more than enough."
Inside, Leo's laughter rang out from the living room—some cartoon victory. Life continued, stubborn and ordinary.
"I don't want to hide," Kiera said after a moment. "But I don't want to be brave for other people either."
"You don't owe anyone a performance," Kade replied. "We'll move at your pace."
She looked at him. "What if my pace slows you down?"
"Then I slow down," he said simply.
That did something to her—reframed strength into something gentler, truer.
That evening, Kiera's phone buzzed with an unknown number.
She stared at it for a long moment before answering.
"Hello?"
"Kiera Frost," Vivienne's voice purred. "I wondered how long it would take."
Kiera's stomach dropped—but she held her ground. "You shouldn't be calling me."
"Oh, relax," Vivienne said. "I just wanted to hear your voice. To confirm you're… real."
Kiera's fingers tightened around the phone. "What do you want?"
"Acknowledgment," Vivienne replied lightly. "You stepped into a life that wasn't yours. Actions have consequences."
"I didn't take anything from you," Kiera said, voice steady. "You walked away."
A sharp laugh. "You think this ends well for you?"
"I think it ends with the truth," Kiera said. "And I'm not afraid of that."
A pause.
Then, coldly: "You should be."
The line went dead.
Kiera lowered the phone, hands trembling—not with fear, but with adrenaline.
Kade was beside her in seconds. "What happened?"
"She called," Kiera said. "I didn't engage. I didn't say anything I shouldn't."
Kade's jaw tightened. "I'll have Carter add a no-contact notice."
She nodded. "Thank you."
Then she surprised them both by saying, "I want to keep going to school. And work. And the park. I don't want my life to shrink because she's loud."
Kade studied her, then smiled—soft, proud. "Then it won't."
Later that night, after Leo was asleep, Kiera sat at her desk, journal open.
She wrote:
Today, I didn't disappear. I didn't apologize for existing. I stood in the light—even when it felt too bright.
A knock sounded.
Kade leaned against the doorframe. "I brought tea."
She smiled. "You're learning."
He stepped in, setting the mug down, then hesitated. "Can I ask you something?"
"Always."
"When this is over," he said quietly, "what do you want?"
She thought about it—not the safe answer, not the distant one.
"I want a life where my choices are mine," she said. "Where love doesn't feel like a debt."
He nodded. "I want that too."
They stood there, close but not touching—two people choosing patience again.
Outside, the city buzzed with rumors and speculation.
Inside, something steadier took root.
Not defiance.
Not fear.
But resolve.
And this time, Kiera wasn't surviving the noise.
She was standing through it.