Chapter 19: How Bad Can It Hurt?

 Emery’s POV

Mel’s voice echoed in my head long after she left.

“Be cautious, Emery. If you dig too deep, you may find something you can't unsee.”

I stood frozen in the dimly lit hallway, staring at the cold blue light of my phone screen until it faded. Until it was just me and the pounding in my chest.

Because I had seen something. Maybe be all of it . MAY not clearly. But something inside Killian was cracking, and I could feel it in every glance, every word left unspoken. The man behind the curtain wasn’t just ruthless. He was tormented.

And I… I was falling for him anyway.

I took a deep breath, I prepared myself, and pushed open the door to the suite.

Only to stop dead in my tracks.

Killian was pacing. His shirt sleeves rolled up. Phone pressed to his ear.

“She must be removed from the board, do you understand?" His voice was deadly. Calm on the surface, but ice cold rage lingered beneath every word. "I want a statement drafted denying every word before the press gets their hands in it.”

His gaze locked onto mine the moment he ended the call.

“They are trying to use you,” he said bluntly. “To get to me. They have already leaked altered messages, twisted photos, old rumors. And if we don’t act first—”

“We?” I interrupted, stepping further inside. “Or you?”

He hesitated. Just long enough to make my heart sink.

I recognized that hesitation. That distance. The one he always use when things became too intense.

“I don’t want you to be dragged into this any further than you already are.”

“Too late.”

“I can handle this,” he replied tightly. “on my own.”

“No, Killian,” I snapped. “You don’t have the right to make that choice anymore. You can’t shut me out just to protect me while everything around us burns. I’m already in the flames. You brought me here.”

His hands clenched at his sides. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“But it’s still what happened.”

He turned away, and walked toward the window as if the city lights could calm the storm brewing between us. “You don’t understand…”

“Then help me understand.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?” I too a step closer. “Is it because it’s ugly? Because you think I’m too fragile to handle it?”

His silence was enough of an answer.

I almost laughed, a bitter, shattered sound.

“I’m not her anymore,” I whispered. ‘Not the girl who gets scared at every raised voice. Not the woman who allowed her husband to cheat, lie to her, and let him bury her until she lost sight of who she was.”

He turned, slowly.

“I’m not seeking a fantasy, Killian. I’m asking for honesty. For partnership. For a chance to face this together.”

His expression cracked, just a little. Just enough for me to see the burden he carried behind those cold, calculating eyes.

“You think this is just about me protecting you?” he asked softly. “Emery… I’m trying to protect us. And if that means I have to burn everything else to ashes, I will.”

I stepped closer, until only just inches separated us.

“But you are not protecting us,” I said. “You’re pushing me away. Again.”

His jaw tightened. “Because if they come for you, I don't know what I will do. And if I lose control—”

“Then let me be your anchor.”

I reached up and cupped his cheek. He flinched as if my touch could burn him.

“Let me in, Killian.”

For a moment, just for one suspended heartbeat, he leaned into my touch.

And then—he kissed me.

Hard. Desperate. A kiss that tasted of destruction and salvation all at once. As if he were trying to imprint himself on me. To memorize the shape of my mouth before everything fell apart

When he finally pulled back, his breath trembled against my skin.

“I’m going to destroy them,” he whispered.

“I know,” I replied

“But if you stay with me, there will be blood.”

“I’m not afraid of blood.”

He gazed at me, his gaze pierced my soul. Searching. And for once, the mask fell off completely.

He was beautiful.

And broken.

But he was mine.

We stood in the silence for what felt like an eternity, bound by something neither of us could name. 

Then his phone buzzed again.

This time, he answered. The phone was on speaker.

It was his lawyer.

They have taken things up a notch. An anonymous source had sent a folder to the media. Inside, there are images of Emery alongside Michael Crest—clearly fabricated—but they were spreading like wildfire. Headlines are already being printed. If we don’t take action immediately, this could ruin both of you.

A chill ran through me.

My blood went cold.

Julian Crest

The rival who cornered Killian at the gala.

The same man who had offered me a drink while whispering about Killian’s secrets.

"This isn’t a coincidence," I whispered.

Killian’s expression hardened.

“No,” he said. “It’s war.”

And in that moment, everything changed.

We weren’t just fighting for our reputations anymore.

We were fighting for our lives.

He seemed like he wanted to say something . To reach out to me. To lift the burden of everything that hung in the air between us.

But instead, he stepped back.

“I will have our team prepare a response to the scandal by morning,” Killian said, his tone strained, yet professional. “You should keep a low profile until then.”

I stared at him, disbelief rooting me to the ground. “So that’s it? You are going to pretend that kiss never happened? Like I didn’t just choose you in front of the world?”

“That wasn’t in the plan,” he replied coldly. “None of this was.”

I felt the sting before his words fully registered. “So what am I, then? Just collateral damage?”

He exhaled as if he was breaking under the weight of it all. “You were meant to be safe.”

“I don’t want to be safe!"?” I yelled. “I want honesty. I want to stop being kept in the shadows while people use my image like it’s a pawn in your corporate battle!”

“Don’t you think I’m aware of that?” His voice trembled. “Don’t you think I hate what this is doing to you?”

“Then stop acting like you are in this by yourself!” I stepped closer to him. “Let me in. Let me fight alongside you.”

His jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, the only sound was the distant hum of the city outside.

Then, without saying another word, he turned and walked out of the room.

And this time, I didn’t chase after him.

The room felt too silent after he left.

Too sterile. Too cold.

I stood in front of the mirror, and stared at my reflection—the gown I had worn for the photo was still clinging to me like an armor. My lipstick was smudged, my eyes wild. I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me.

But I respected her.

Because she was still standing.

She had been thrust into Killian Wolfe’s world—a realm of ruthless strategy, deception, and control—and somehow, she hadn’t sunk. Not yet.

But how long could I keep swimming before the tide pulled me under?

I walked to the couch and sank into it, dragging my knees to my chest.

I wasn’t just angry.

I was terrified.

Because even now—even after the scandal, the kiss, the argument—I didn’t want to leave.

Not because I was trapped.

But because, deep down, I still believed in him.

And that scared me more than any headline ever could.

Morning came too fast.

So did the fallout.

Social media exploded. News outlets plastered my face alongside twisted headlines:

“Killian Wolfe’s Fiancée In Secret Affair?”

“Crest Strikes: Caught on Camera”

Every picture looked worse than the last.

Every post was like a knife twisting into my heart.

But the worst part?

Killian didn’t call.

Didn’t text.

Didn’t show up.

I waited until noon. Then I made a decision.

I pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, tied my hair up, and walked out of the hotel through the back entrance, avoiding the press like a fugitive.

I didn’t know exactly where I was going.

Only that I couldn’t sit still while the world turned upside down.

Mel met me at a quiet café two blocks from her office.

She looked tired. Wired. Half-distracted by the phone in her hand and the flurry of updates coming in every minute.

“Tell me the truth,” I said, no pleasantries. “How bad is it?”

Mel hesitated.

Then she handed me her phone.

A document was pulled up—an anonymous tip submitted to a gossip site.

Photos. Allegations. Claims of infidelity. Claims Killian silenced rivals in the past with payoffs, blackmail, threats. And me—painted as the naive girl caught in the crossfire… or worse, the willing accomplice.

“None of this is real,” I whispered.

“No,” Mel agreed. “But real doesn’t matter when the lie is louder.”

I swallowed hard. “What do we do?”

She looked me dead in the eye.

“We dig.”

I blinked. “What?”

“We don’t wait for Killian’s team. We don’t let his PR spin take control. We find out where this is coming from—and we destroy it.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Then she hesitated. Just slightly.

“What?” I asked.

Mel leaned in, voice dropping. “Be careful, Emery. If you dig too deep, you may find something you can’t unsee.”

I didn’t blink.

Because deep down, I already knew.

I was too far.

And whatever came next—

There was no escaping him now.

The city had that strange hush of late evening—restless but still.

I met Mel in a tucked-away wine bar. We sat across from each other in the dim corner booth, my hands wrapped around a cup of my untouched coffee.

“It’s worse than we thought,” she said, sliding her phone toward me.

On the screen were photos, headlines, and one very ugly narrative.

"Emery Sinclair: The Distraction Wolfe Needed."

“Fake Engagement? Real Scandal.”

“Sources Say Killian Wolfe Engineered Relationship to Sink Rival's Reputation.”

Every article twisted reality just enough to make it feel real.

And worse, they were gaining traction.

“Where are these coming from?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

Mel frowned. “Anonymous sources. Strategically timed leaks. But someone powerful is feeding this.”

“Crest?”

She nodded. “Most likely. But there’s more.”

I looked up, heart skipping.

Mel hesitated. Then leaned closer. “There are whispers that something happened in Dubai. Years ago. Something Killian buried. And it’s back now—surfacing because you’re in the picture.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re leveraged,” she said plainly. “You’re his weakness. And someone’s playing the long game.”

My fingers tightened around the cup. “Then I need to know what it is.”

Mel paused. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Be careful, Emery. If you dig too deep, you may find something you can’t unsee.”

I stared at her.

Because deep down, I already knew.

I was too far.

Whatever came next—

There was no escaping him now.

Back in the hotel suite, everything was dim. Cold. The fire had burned out.

On the table sat a sleek black envelope that hadn’t been there before.

There was no name or address attached to it.

Just a single, folded photograph.

I opened it slowly.

It was me.

Me… and Julian Crest we were—

Talking. Laughing. Smiling.

From weeks ago. A private moment captured from afar.

But it wasn’t the photo that chilled my blood.

It was what was written on the back—in heavy black ink, messy, rushed:

“Ask Killian what he did in Dubai.”

My breath caught.

My knees nearly gave out, what was with Dubai? I didn't know but I was unsure if I should know what happened or if I shouldn't. 

But how bad can it hurt?

Because whatever truth lay buried in that word—Dubai—was about to explode.

And this time, I wasn’t going to wait for him to protect me from it.

This time, I would find out everything.

Even if it broke us both.