Chapter Three

Sofia barely slept. When she did, it was shallow and restless, her dreams warped by the glare of headlines and hashtags. By morning her eyes burned, her head ached, and her phone still buzzed like a hive of angry bees.

The Echelon office was alive when she arrived, but not in the usual way. The rhythm of ringing phones and clacking keyboards was the same, but under it ran a current of whispers. Colleagues’ eyes flicked up and away too quickly when she passed. Screens tilted just enough to hide what they were reading.

She walked straight to her desk, spine stiff, determined not to crumble.

“Sofia.”

Her head lifted. Carrie Tuazon was standing by her office, her tone firm but not cold.

Sofia followed her inside. The door clicked shut, sealing her in the glass-walled office with its skyline view and orchids blooming in quiet defiance. Carrie studied her for a moment. Not with suspicion, but with something closer to calculation.

“I know it is not you,” Carrie said finally, her voice even. “You are far too careful. Far too proper. I would not have trusted you with Echelon if you were not. But the internet does not care about what I know.”

Sofia’s chest tightened, relief flooding her for the first time since the night before. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

Before Carrie could continue, the door swung open without a knock. Joan swept in, tall and elegant in her stilettos, every inch the runway queen with her bold style and unapologetic energy. Where Carrie was precise and composed, Joan was flamboyant and fearless, a friend and often her sharpest mirror.

“Well, well, well,” Joan declared, striding to the desk. “If it is not Miss Sofia Reyes, Echelon’s new scandal magnet. Do you know my mother sent me a TikTok this morning with your face edited onto a K-pop video? I had to block her.”

Sofia blinked in horror. “What?”

Joan perched herself on the edge of Carrie’s desk and crossed her long legs. “Relax, darling. I told her it was not you. Your hair is not frizzy. You should thank me.”

Carrie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Joan.”

“What?” Joan widened her eyes innocently. “Look at this girl. Does she look like she would even survive ten minutes at Elysium Club? Please. She still thinks Starbucks Reserve is edgy.”

Despite herself, Sofia let out a small laugh, the sound shaking.

Carrie leaned forward, her voice steady again. “Listen carefully, Sofia. Your name is already linked to Tristan Jacinto, and the story is spreading fast. It does not matter that it is false. What matters is that people believe it.”

Joan lifted her hand as if translating. “Which means, darling, that you need to get ahead of it before the titas of Nueva Ecija start turning it into a prayer chain on F******k.”

Sofia groaned softly. “They already might be.”

Carrie’s gaze sharpened. “Here is what you will do. First, go to corporate communications. They will draft a statement denying involvement. Second, meet with legal. If this grows, you will need a defamation claim ready. And third, reach out to Jacinto’s PR office. They will want this rumor buried as much as you do. If protecting him means protecting you, they will cooperate.”

Sofia nodded quickly, trying to absorb it all. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Carrie’s tone softened. “You are good at your job. You have proven that. Do not let this break you. The internet can invent whatever lies it wants, but you know who you are. And so do I.”

Sofia’s throat ached, her eyes stinging. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

Joan leaned forward and tapped her hand. “And if all else fails, darling, we will just put you on the next cover. ‘How to Survive a Sex Scandal Without Having Sex.’ Bestseller.”

“Joan.” Carrie’s voice was sharp, but her mouth betrayed the faintest flicker of amusement.

Sofia pressed her palms against her face, half-laughing, half-crying.

For the first time since the nightmare began, she felt just a little less alone.