The first article hit the internet at 8:12 a.m.
Evelyn stumbled across it by accident.
She was standing at the kitchen counter, coffee in hand, flipping through her emails. A name she knew jumped out from a forwarded link.
FORMER MRS. VALE UNDER SCRUTINY AMID BUSINESS CONTROVERSY
Her fingers stopped moving.
For a second, she just stared, heart pounding in her ears.
She didn't open it right away.
Instead, she finished her coffee, slower than usual, like she could delay whatever waited for her on that screen. When her mug was empty, she finally reached for her phone again.
The article tiptoed around the story. Way too careful.
No accusations. No outright lies.
Just hints.
Questions in the air.
Sources "suggest."
Connections "worth examining."
They dragged up her divorce. Talked about her "sudden independence," her "rapid professional ascent."
Lucas Vale's name came up three times, just to make sure no one missed it.
She closed the window.
So this was the beginning.
At work, everything felt off.
Conversations died when she came near. People forced smiles, looked anywhere but at her, acted like nothing had changed.
Evelyn sat at her desk, opened her laptop, straightened her back, kept her face unreadable.
No way she'd let them see her sweat.
By ten, the second article was out.
This one didn't bother with politeness.
Her phone wouldn't stop buzzing—old friends, past coworkers, family she hadn't heard from in years.
Is this true?
Are you alright?
Do you want help?
She ignored every message.
At ten-thirty, her supervisor called her in.
The door shut behind her with a soft click.
"We need to talk," he said.
Evelyn nodded. "Sure."
He rubbed at his forehead, looking tired. "You know this puts us in a tough spot."
"I haven't done anything wrong," she said, voice steady.
"I know," he replied. "But knowing doesn't undo the mess."
There it was again.
Damage.
"We're putting you on temporary leave," he said. "Paid, until the review's over."
Evelyn felt her chest tighten.
Temporary leave.
Exile, just with a nicer name.
"How long?" she asked.
"We don't know yet."
She let that sink in.
Then she stood up.
"I understand. Thanks for letting me know."
He paused. "If you want… if you need someone in your corner—"
"I'll take care of it," Evelyn said.
She left without looking back.
By noon, the third article had landed.
This one didn't bother with gloves.
Across town, Lucas Vale closed his fist around a glass and shattered it.
Blood welled up, bright and immediate, but he barely registered the pain.
His assistant froze in the doorway. "Mr. Vale, the PR team's on standby. Legal wants your go-ahead to—"
"No." Lucas didn't raise his voice, but the word sliced through everything.
"They're going after her," the assistant insisted. "We can stop this in a few hours."
Lucas's jaw tightened.
He could fix this.
Just one phone call. Maybe two.
But he remembered how she'd looked at him in the garage—unflinching, determined.
It's still my choice.
He flexed his hand, ignoring the sting.
"Stand down," he told the assistant. "Don't step in."
A pause, then a nod. The assistant slipped out.
Lucas dropped into his chair, breath shallow.
This wasn't self-control anymore.
This was agony.
Evelyn came home earlier than usual.
The apartment felt small, the walls closing in. Too quiet, too heavy.
She dropped her bag and leaned against the door with her eyes shut.
For the first time since the divorce, she felt tears almost break through.
Not out of shame.
She was just so tired.
She hadn't signed up for this fight.
She hadn't asked to be picked apart for loving someone who couldn't love her back.
She straightened, slow and careful.
No.
She wouldn't fall apart here.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She hesitated, then picked up.
"Ms. Hart," a woman's voice—cool, unhurried. "This is Serena Caldwell."
Evelyn's breath caught.
Lucas's old rumored flame.
"I don't think we have anything to talk about," Evelyn said.
Serena just laughed, light and easy. "I think we do. With everything going on, I'd say we have plenty."
Silence. Heavy with all the things neither of them would say.
"What do you want?" Evelyn finally asked.
"A meeting," Serena said. "No press. No records."
"No."
A soft, mocking laugh. "If you don't, the story only gets worse."
Evelyn's hand curled tight around the phone.
"You started the rumors," she said, voice low.
"I used them," Serena corrected. "That's not the same."
The line went dead.
Evelyn stared at her phone.
So, this was it.
Not Lucas. Not the headlines.
It was people waiting for her to stumble.
She spent her evening drafting a statement.
Clear. Just the facts. No drama.
She didn't deny the marriage.
She didn't apologize for it.
She just told the truth.
At midnight, she posted it.
No extra words.
No asking for pity.
Just what happened.
She switched off her phone.
Across town, Lucas watched her words hit the internet.
He read them once.
Then again.
No bitterness. No cheap shots.
He was barely mentioned.
No blame.
Just quiet strength.
It hollowed him out.
He'd failed her.
He'd missed this strength.
His phone rang. His mother.
"Do something," she snapped. "This is a disgrace."
Lucas spoke softly. "No. These are the consequences."
He ended the call and paced.
For the first time, the boundaries were obvious.
He couldn't keep crossing them.
No more control.
No more interference.
No more pretending she belonged to him.
If he ever deserved a second chance, it wouldn't come from rescuing her.
It meant letting her stand alone—even if it ripped him apart.
Evelyn lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
The city lights blinked across the dark.
Tomorrow, she'd deal with everything.
On her own.
And as fear crept in, something else answered it.
Resolve.
They wanted to test her independence?
Fine.
She'd show them just how strong she really was—no one behind her, no one holding her up.