That afternoon, Emily was curled up on the couch, idly scrolling through her phone when a notification popped up—a new follower on her design page.The username was unfamiliar-hermobius. The profile had no bio. Just one post.Curious, she clicked.It was a close-up photo of two hands—hers and Adrian’s—from the night they exchanged rings. The lighting was soft, the rings catching the faint shimmer of fireworks in the background. Whoever had taken the shot had captured the moment perfectly.Emily’s heart skipped.She took a screenshot and sent it to Adrian.Emily: You made a social media account?A moment later, his reply came through.Adrian: Mm. Felt like I should post something that matters.Then another message followed—a selfie. His hand raised, showcasing the wedding band on his finger.Adrian: A symbol that belongs to you.Emily stared at the photo, then noticed something. The background wasn’t his office.Emily: Wait… you're not at work?Adrian: Nope. I’m doing a person
If she really came on the20th… Then that message,sent on the18th… It wasn’t from her. Adrian’s eyes darkened as he stared at the words again,something cold pressing behind his ribs. Back then,he had believed it.Every word. After that message five years ago—May18th—he hadn’t come back.Not really. He'd finished the business trip,extended it twice,then shifted to another project overseas.There had always been a reason.A client to meet.A team to oversee.A contract to renegotiate. But deep down…he knew. He’d stayed away because he thought she had chosen someone else. And if that was true—if she was happy—he hadn’t wanted to interfere.Not even with a reply. He hadn’t questioned it. He’d just…disappeared. Five years.No contact.No messages.No attempts to cross back into her world.
With that, he helped her toward the hospital entrance, following the path Emily had taken. They kept their distance—but Mike’s eyes never left her. By the time Emily reached the third floor and paused outside Miss Hart’s room, Mike and Vivian were just rounding the corner behind her. He didn’t call out again. By the time Mike and Vivian finally made it to the hospital floor, Emily was already inside Miss Evelyn Hart’s room, chatting softly with the older woman. Vivian, still limping slightly, had slowed them down with every step, and now they stood just outside the door, unseen, listening. Inside, Miss Hart smiled warmly.“So tell me, Emily, how have you been, dear? Have you settled down? Found someone?” Emily’s voice was light.“Actually…I’m married now. I’ll bring him next time so you can meet him.” Mike’s jaw clenched. Before he could stop himself, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. “You’re lying,”he snapped. The sudden voice startled Miss Hart. She loo
Mike couldn’t let it go. The moment Emily walked away from him—cool, final, untouchable—something snapped. He needed to know. Needed answers. “Emily, wait—please!”Mike chased after her, breath ragged, voice cracking as he called her name in the parking lot. “I only kept seeing Vivian to make you jealous! I just wanted you to love me like you used to—like when we were kids and you’d get mad every time someone else looked at me. I needed that. I needed to feel that again.” Emily didn’t even glance back. Her steps were quick, sharp, purposeful. “I’ll fix this!”he shouted.“Let’s get a new ring—right now. We can go submit the marriage application. I’m serious, Emily! I’ll do it today!” The car door slammed shut. And then she was gone. Mike stood frozen, watching her unfamiliar car disappear down the ramp. It wasn’t the car he remembered. Nothing about her was the same anymore. He stumbled back, pressing his shoulder against the cold concrete wall, then slid down until
That evening, Emily curled up beside Adrian on the couch, her head resting against his shoulder as the soft glow of the screen lit up the living room. They were watching the freshly edited footage from the night she’d surprised him—the velvet box, the exchanged rings, the fireworks blooming above their heads. The photographer had done a beautiful job. Every frame looked like a dream, but it was the unspoken expressions between them—the quiet awe, the tenderness—that made Emily’s chest ache just a little. She reached for Adrian’s hand without thinking, interlacing their fingers. “By the way,”she said quietly, her voice a soft thread in the calm.“I went to the hospital today to visit Miss Hart—my old high school teacher.” Adrian turned slightly toward her.“How is she doing?” “She’s stable now. But…I ran into Mike. And Vivian.” Adrian’s hand tensed almost imperceptibly in hers. Emily felt it. She gave a small, reassuring squeeze. “I told him I’m married,”she continued.“
Emily’s voice stayed calm, but her grip on the phone tightened just slightly. “Yes, we did break up,”she said.“But that was because Mike cheated on me. With Vivian.” There was silence on the other end. “And as for A Design—I left because I no longer agreed with the direction of their investments. I believe they’re heading somewhere dangerous, and it doesn’t align with what I value. So yes, I sold my shares.” She paused, then added evenly,“And it wasn’t‘some man.’I got married.” More silence. Then, quieter, firmer: “Also, it’s been two and a half years since either of you contacted me. Not a call, not a message. You’ve never once asked how I was doing. So no—I didn’t think I owed you a heads-up.” She glanced at the clock. “It’s ten o’clock,”she said, voice soft but final.“We’re going to bed now. Goodnight.” Adrian said nothing at first. He simply reached over and placed his hand gently on the small of her back, his thumb moving in slow, soothing circles. The t
The car was quiet as it moved through the late-morning traffic, sunlight glinting off the glass as Emily and Adrian sat side by side in the back seat. She had finally made up her mind—Adrian would meet her parents today. Neither of them spoke much, but her fingers were curled loosely around his, resting on the seat between them. The tension in her shoulders hadn’t gone unnoticed. “You sure?”Adrian asked gently. Emily nodded.“As sure as I’ll ever be.” He squeezed her hand once, and she gave him a soft, grateful smile. Their driver took a turn onto the lakeside road, the city slowly giving way to the quieter outskirts where her parents lived. — At that exact moment, across the city— Mike sat at his desk, scrolling absently through the latest business news when a headline caught his eye. “Private But Powerful:E International’s Adrian Blackwood Breaks His Silence in Exclusive Feature.”
Mike’s fingers flew across the keyboard, searching every public profile, every business article, every whisper of Adrian Blackwood in the last few years. The deeper he looked, the more pieces fell into place. The more they burned. And then he saw it. A headline from a few weeks ago that had made its rounds in private circles: “E International CEO in Passionate Late-Night Kiss—Newlyweds Caught in Car Park Romance.” He’d seen it before. At the time, he hadn’t cared to look closely—just another tabloid moment, he’d told himself. Just another fabricated headline trying to stir gossip around a man like Adrian Blackwood. But now… Now he clicked in again. The photo loaded slowly. Dim garage lighting. A sleek car in the background. The CEO, Adrian, in a perfectly tailored suit—his hand cradling a woman’s face, kissing her with a hunger that made the moment look painfully private. Mike zoomed in. The shadows didn’t help. The woman’s face was partially obscured, half-turne
Somewhere between the surge of reposts and media coverage,a legal document quietly leaked—partially redacted,but detailed enough to raise alarms.The date.The charge.The vague outline of an incident. Mike zoomed in on one line. “Suspect arranged for a third party to carry out a calculated vehicular collision.Minor exterior damage reported.” His heart skipped. Another line stood out: “Incident occurred a month ago.Location:Lexford Boulevard,directly in front of the A Design building.Victim declined to press charges.” Mike’s fingers froze on the screen. Lexford Boulevard. He knew that street.It was the main drive right outside their company. He scrolled further,eyes locked on the faint scan of a traffic report attached near the end of the document—blurred plate numbers,incident time,vehicle model. And there it was. His eyes locked onto it. The license plate number. He knew that number by heart. It was Emily’s. Mike’s throat dried. He thought she was just
Statement from Adrian Apologies for taking up public space.I originally created this account just to quietly follow and support my wife’s work. First,let me be clear:Emily Hart sold her shares legally.The rumors about her"taking someone’s money"are baseless. Second,regarding the jewelry division—please see images4and5.These show A Design's jewelry sales and financial growth over the past three years.Since Emily took over,performance has only improved.Her contributions are undeniable.She’s an exceptional designer,and the numbers speak for themselves. As for our relationship:Emily and Mike Morgans parted ways peacefully.I was the one who pursued her.I was the one who proposed.And if there’s anything I’m most grateful for this year—it’s the chance to be her partner. Many of the posts circulating now include claims from so-called“insiders”who clearly lack the facts.This looks less like gossip and more like a coordinated smear campaign. The individuals mentioned in these accusa
The phone rang barely a second after Emily removed Mike from her block list. She stared at the screen,lips tightening,then answered. “Emily,”Mike’s voice came through smooth,laced with concern.“I saw the news.The posts,the comments…all of it.” He sighed deeply,like it pained him. “I’m really worried about you.Adrian clearly hasn’t done enough to protect you.You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.” Emily said nothing. “I can help,”he continued.“I can speak out.I can get Vivian to clarify everything—the plagiarism rumors,the third-party drama.It can all go away.” Emily’s eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t sound like you,”she said quietly.“Why would you help me now?” A pause. Then Mike answered,soft and deliberate,“There’s just one condition.” Emily’s stomach turned. “You come back to me.” She inhaled sharply.“No need to go that far.I just need you to clarify one thing—that we ended things peacefully.” But Mike’s tone snapped. “No.Don’t think you can cut me
The night passed quietly. But the internet didn’t sleep. What began as a wave of admiration—comments praising how sweet and in sync Emily and Adrian seemed—slowly started to twist as darkness settled in. Somewhere, someone began to whisper. And in the quiet of midnight, whispers became headlines. “Runaway Bride? Sources say Emily Hart ditched her CEO fiancédays before their wedding.” “Not so innocent:insider claims Emily took half the design team when she left A Design.” “They say she sold her shares. But wasn’t it really a trade-up move to E International?” “Swapped a fiancéfor a Forbes-listed husband. Her financial growth curve beats any IPO.” The jokes got darker. So did the comments. By noon the next day, the tide had shifted. What had started as trending adoration had become wildfire scandal. Emily’s brand account had exploded with new followers—but the majority weren’t there for her work. They came with screenshots, accusations, wild speculation. Th
The interview and shoot were scheduled just days later, and the production team had already planned a short behind-the-scenes video to be released on social media first— a chance to ride the momentum while it lasted. Still, as Emily stood in the spotlight of the photo studio, the lights glaring overhead, she felt a twist of nerves in her stomach. The lighting rig blocked half her view. She could barely see beyond the softboxes, let alone the studio door. She took a quiet breath and tried to focus. From behind the equipment, she heard the director chuckle. A warm, baritone voice followed with a teasing edge: “Well, well. Look who’s here. Didn’t expect to see you.” Emily glanced up instinctively. And there he was. Adrian—tall, sharp, completely out of place in a room full of rolling racks and lens flares—yet somehow fitting in all the same. He gave the director a polite nod. “Thought I’d drop by,”he said easily.“My wife’s first major cover. Wouldn’t miss it.”
The next morning,sunlight spilled softly across the edge of the bed,catching on the pale gold curtains. Emily blinked awake,still wrapped in the warmth of Adrian’s arms. For a long moment,she didn’t move—just listened to the slow,steady rhythm of his breathing behind her,the quiet peace that followed everything they’d left on that stage. Then her phone buzzed. She reached for it sleepily,squinting at the screen. And froze. Notifications were flooding in—social media mentions,article headlines,blog posts,tags,messages,comment threads that seemed to scroll endlessly. The brand’s official account was trending. Her name was trending. Even#MobiusBride was trending. She stared at it,eyes wide,then turned to look back at Adrian,who had stirred awake,watching her with half-lidded eyes. "Did you…pay for all this promotion?"she asked,still dazed,the phone now resting against his bare chest. Adrian lifted an eyebrow,amused. "As a financial investor,the first thing I a
As the applause faded and the lights dimmed slightly, a soft transition played across the massive LED screen behind Emily. The crowd turned to look— and there it was. A sleek, elegant Möbius strip, rendered in brushed platinum and rose gold, slowly rotated on the screen. It was the official brand symbol of her new line. The host, standing beside the podium, turned toward her with a smile. “Ms. Hart, could you tell us a bit about the meaning behind this design?” Emily smiled, steady and poised, her voice carrying gently through the mic. “The Möbius strip has a fascinating history,” she began. “It’s a one-sided surface—continuous, infinite. No beginning, no end. It symbolizes unity, eternity, and the beautifully complex nature of connection.” She paused, then added, her eyes softening slightly. “When I created this brand, a part of its philosophy was inspired by my husband. This symbol you see here is also the foundation of our wedding ring design. Because I believe every s
The space between them stretched thin, charged and brittle. People around them were starting to notice, glancing over with curious eyes. The gift box remained suspended awkwardly between them, Mike’s hand still waiting, expectant. Emily’s fingers curled into her side, rigid with the effort not to move, not to take it. A heartbeat later, a warm hand closed over the box. Another arm slid around her waist in a firm, unmistakable claim. Emily exhaled in a rush as Adrian pulled her gently against him, his presence a wall between her and everything else. He turned to Mike with a polished smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Mike,”Adrian said smoothly, his voice calm and cutting all at once. “Good to see you. Please, enjoy the evening. Have a seat.” Without waiting for a response, Adrian laced his fingers through Emily’s and steered her away with effortless possession. Emily followed, her heart hammering, the heat of his hand grounding her as they moved through the crow
Adrian smiled against her hair, then shifted to the side, pulling the covers up over both of them. He gathered her into his arms, tucking her securely against him, her head nestled under his chin, his hand stroking soothing circles along her spine. Emily let out a tiny sigh, the last of her tension melting away. Wrapped up in his arms, with the steady thud of his heartbeat against her ear and his breath warm in her hair, she finally felt herself drift. Safe. Loved. Home. Adrian kissed the top of her head one last time and whispered, "Sleep, baby. I'm not going anywhere." And with that promise stitched into the night between them, they both surrendered to sleep—together. - The design studio was finally finished— polished marble floors, glass walls that caught the sunlight just right, sleek modern lines that spoke of ambition and elegance. It stood just a few blocks away from E International, nestled in the heart of the city’s thriving downtown core. When E