Morning Is Not Gentle
Paris woke before Amaiyla did.
It always did—indifferent, relentless, beautiful in the way things were beautiful when they didn't care who they crushed beneath them.
Light slid through the tall windows in pale ribbons, touching the ceiling first, then the floor, then the edge of the bed. Amaiyla lay still, eyes open, counting breaths that didn't calm her. She listened to the city breathe beneath her—traffic humming, a distant siren dissolving into silence, the low murmur of life continuing as if the world hadn't shifted overnight.
Xander was awake.
She could feel it in the tension of him—the way his body remained alert even in stillness, the way his arm rested around her waist without tightening, without claiming. Protective. Deliberate.
Controlled.
It was somehow worse than if he'd held her too tightly.
"You're thinking again," he murmured, voice low, already awake enough to sound like a warning.
Amaiyla swallowed. "You say that like it's a crime."
"It is," he replied quietly. "In this house."
She almost smiled. Almost.
She shifted slightly, turning just enough to look at him. His eyes were open now, dark and focused, already calculating angles she couldn't see yet.
"Do you regret it?" she asked softly.
Xander didn't pretend not to understand.
"No."
The word landed clean. Immediate. Uncomplicated.
Her breath hitched despite herself.
"But," he continued, gaze steady, "I regret how little time we have before they make it hurt."
The weight of that settled heavily between them.
Amaiyla closed her eyes. "My father won't wait."
"No," Xander agreed. "He's already moving."
As if summoned, her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Once.
Then again.
Her stomach tightened before she even looked.
Unknown Sender: This will be public in thirty minutes. Prepare yourself.
Amaiyla sat up sharply, sheets pooling at her waist. "Xander—"
"I know," he said, already reaching for his phone.
She stared at him. "How do you know?"
His jaw flexed. "Because that message isn't meant to warn you. It's meant to see how you react."
Her chest tightened. "Public how?"
Xander didn't answer immediately. His fingers moved fast—typing, sending, rerouting calls she didn't know existed.
Then his phone buzzed.
A news alert.
He turned the screen toward her.
HOLLINGSWORTH–REYES ALLIANCE CONFIRMED: INSIDE THE ENGAGEMENT SHAPING EUROPE'S NEXT POWER MOVE
Amaiyla felt the blood drain from her face.
"That wasn't supposed to go out," she whispered.
Xander's expression darkened. "It wasn't."
She scrolled with trembling fingers.
Photos.Paris.Her.Xander.
A carefully chosen angle of them exiting the restaurant. Another from the terrace—close enough to imply intimacy, distant enough to deny specifics. Every image curated to suggest inevitability.
A story already written.
"This makes it look like…" Her voice cracked.
"Like you chose me," Xander finished.
Her heart slammed painfully against her ribs. "Connor—"
"Has already seen it," Xander said quietly.
She looked up at him sharply. "How do you know that?"
"Because your father didn't release this to control you."
"Then why?"
"To provoke him."
Amaiyla's hands shook. "That's cruel."
Xander's voice went cold. "That's strategy."
For the first time since waking, something hardened inside her.
No.
Not strategy.
Containment.
And suddenly she understood—not completely, but enough to feel the shape of the cage shifting.
They weren't protecting her.
They were afraid of what she might do if she stopped obeying.
Tammy Steps Into the Open
Tammy Veraga arrived exactly twenty minutes later.
Not rushed.Not flustered.Prepared.
She walked in with her tablet tucked beneath her arm like an extension of herself, expression sharp and already three steps ahead of the chaos unfolding.
"Congratulations," Tammy said lightly. "You've officially become a headline."
Amaiyla stood, anger flaring hot and immediate. "You knew."
Tammy didn't deny it. "I suspected the timing. Not the framing."
Xander crossed his arms. "John leaked it."
"Yes," Tammy agreed. "But not alone."
Amaiyla's stomach dropped. "Harold."
"Yes."
Of course it was coordinated.
Amaiyla laughed, short and bitter. "Of course it was."
Tammy studied her more carefully now. "How are you holding up?"
"How do you think?" Amaiyla snapped.
Tammy accepted that without flinching. "Fair."
She turned to Xander. "You need to understand what this does."
Xander's eyes were dark. "It paints a target."
Tammy shook her head once. "No. It locks one."
Amaiyla frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Tammy said quietly, stepping closer, "that John has now publicly fused your identity with Xander's. Any move against you becomes a move against him."
Amaiyla stared at her. "So he's protecting me?"
Tammy's smile thinned. "No. He's insulating himself."
Xander exhaled slowly. "And Connor?"
Tammy's gaze flicked up. "Connor is collateral."
Amaiyla flinched. "He's not collateral. He's—"
"—the variable John wants removed," Tammy finished gently.
Amaiyla's throat tightened. "Removed how?"
Tammy hesitated. Just long enough to matter.
"Tell me," Amaiyla said sharply.
"By forcing him to choose between exposure and distance," Tammy replied. "Either he steps away quietly, or he's destroyed publicly."
Amaiyla's chest burned. "That's blackmail."
"Yes."
Xander's voice went lethal. "He crosses that line, I respond."
Tammy met his gaze evenly. "Public retaliation will hurt her."
Amaiyla's voice broke. "Everything hurts her!"
Silence followed.
Then Tammy placed the tablet on the table and turned it toward Amaiyla.
"Your father has scheduled a press appearance tonight," she said. "Formal confirmation. Controlled language."
Amaiyla stared at the screen. "I didn't agree to this."
"That's the point."
Panic clawed up her spine. "I can't do this."
Xander stepped forward instantly. "You won't."
Tammy lifted a brow. "You plan to defy him publicly?"
"I plan," Xander said evenly, "to give her agency."
"That's not how this game works."
Amaiyla straightened. "Then maybe it's time someone broke it."
Tammy smiled—slow, approving.
"There she is."
Connor Breaks Silence
Connor Jackson watched the news alert alone.
The television glowed too brightly in the hotel room, her name scrolling beneath images that made his stomach turn.
Amaiyla Hollingsworth.Xander Reyes.Engaged.
The word cut deeper than he expected.
He grabbed his phone, fingers trembling.
Connor: Tell me this isn't real.
No reply.
Connor: Amaiyla, please.
Still nothing.
The silence began to feel intentional.
Anger bled into something darker.
"She chose him," he whispered.
But even as the words left his mouth, they didn't settle right.
This wasn't love.
This was choreography.
Connor paced, breath shallow, chest tight. Then his phone buzzed.
John Hollingsworth: We should speak. Today.
Connor stared at the message, pulse pounding.
This wasn't coincidence.
It was invitation.
And Connor was done reacting.
Connor: Name the place.
IV. Xander Draws the Line
Xander stood at the window, phone pressed to his ear.
"Yes," he said quietly. "Cancel the press appearance."
A pause.
"No. I don't care who authorized it."
Another pause.
Then his voice hardened.
"If John Hollingsworth wants control, he can negotiate it with me."
He ended the call and turned.
"They're furious," he said.
Amaiyla laughed weakly. "That makes two of us."
"What comes next will feel like punishment," Xander said. "It's designed to scare you back into compliance."
"And if I don't comply?"
"Then I stop protecting their image."
"That's dangerous."
"Yes," he agreed. "That's the point."
"What if I lose everything?"
Xander didn't hesitate. "You won't lose me."
Her chest tightened. "That's not fair."
"Neither is this."
Father and Daughter
John Hollingsworth didn't call.
He appeared.
The video call filled Amaiyla's phone without warning.
"You look tired," he said calmly.
"What did you do?" she demanded.
"I protected you."
"No," she snapped. "You trapped me."
"You trapped yourself when you confused emotion with discipline."
"You don't get to decide my life anymore."
Silence.
Then, calmly: "If you stay, Connor loses everything."
Amaiyla gasped.
"That," John said, "is leverage."
The call ended.
Amaiyla collapsed into Xander's arms.
"I've got you," he murmured.
And for the first time, she believed him—not because he was stronger than her father, but because he was willing to burn the system down with her inside it.
...
That night, Paris buzzed with speculation.
John sharpened his knives.Connor walked toward his undoing.Tammy smiled into the dark.
And Amaiyla understood the truth with terrifying clarity:
She was no longer protected.
She was dangerous.