The first headline appeared before noon.
BILLIONAIRE CEO'S SECRET INTERN ROMANCE SHAKES BLACKWOOD PRESS
Lena saw it on her phone while standing in line at the coffee shop near the office. Her breath caught, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt.
She hadn't searched for it.
It had found her.
More articles followed. Photos of the Blackwood Press building. Speculation. Words twisted into something ugly and dramatic.
She paid for her coffee and walked back to work with shaking hands.
Inside the office, chaos waited.
Phones rang nonstop. Editors rushed between desks. The calm that followed Ethan's apology had shattered overnight.
Lena barely reached her desk before someone whispered, "Is it true?"
She didn't answer.
She didn't owe anyone an explanation.
But the stares burned.
From his office, Ethan was already in damage-control mode. His phone buzzed endlessly — PR advisors, lawyers, board members.
"This is spiraling," his head of communications said sharply over speakerphone. "We need a statement. Now."
Ethan rubbed his temples. "There will be no statement that disrespects Lena."
A pause followed.
"That limits our options," the advisor replied.
"Then find better options," Ethan said coldly.
By lunchtime, paparazzi crowded the sidewalk outside the building.
Lena saw them through the glass doors — cameras raised, eyes searching.
Fear tightened her chest.
She turned to leave through the back exit, but voices followed her.
"Lena."
She turned to see Ethan approaching.
"I'll have security escort you," he said quietly.
"I don't want special treatment," she replied.
"This isn't about privilege," he said. "It's about safety."
She hesitated, then nodded.
They walked together, surrounded by guards, flashes bursting around them. Questions were shouted.
"Did you know who he was?"
"Were you paid?"
"Is this a scandal or a love story?"
Lena kept her eyes forward.
Ethan's jaw tightened.
In the car, silence filled the space between them.
"I never wanted this," Lena said finally.
"I know," Ethan replied.
"My life feels like it's not mine anymore."
"I'm sorry," he said. "I would take it back if I could."
She looked at him then. "Would you?"
He hesitated — just a second too long.
Her heart sank.
That evening, Lena returned to her apartment to find a reporter waiting downstairs.
She turned away, heart racing, and hurried up the stairs.
She locked the door and slid down against it, tears burning.
This was what loving someone powerful meant.
Exposure.
Loss of control.
Later that night, Ethan stood in front of the board.
"This relationship is a liability," one member said bluntly.
Ethan straightened. "Lena is not a liability. She is a person."
"You must choose," another said. "The company or the scandal."
The room went quiet.
Ethan knew what they expected.
He also knew what he wanted.
Across the city, Lena sat at her desk, staring at her notebook.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Ethan.
Ethan: I won't let them hurt you. No matter the cost.
She closed her eyes.
Love shouldn't feel like war.
But sometimes, it does.