Chapter 17: Price of protection

Rayna's POV

I woke to the sound of my phone vibrating like it was having a seizure.

Bleary-eyed, I reached for it on the nightstand. The screen was lit up with notifications, texts, calls, social media alerts. Hundreds of them.

My stomach dropped.

The Whitmore incident. Of course.

I unlocked my phone and immediately wished I hadn't.

"DENZEL ADAMS' WIFE AT CENTER OF SCANDAL"

"WHO IS RAYNA JAMES ADAMS? THE WOMAN WHO COST BILLIONAIRE $2.3M"

"CONTRACT WIFE OR REAL LOVE? INSIDE THE ADAMS MARRIAGE"

The headlines were everywhere. T*****r. I*******m. Every gossip site. The video of Denzel punching Whitmore had been viewed millions of times. And worse, speculation was rampant.

Some articles painted me as the victim. Others as the seductress who'd lured Whitmore into that office. Some questioned whether my marriage to Denzel was even real or just "a business arrangement" as Whitmore had claimed.

My phone rang. Mom.

I considered not answering, but that would only make things worse.

"Hi, Mom."

"Rayna! What on earth is going on? Your father and I just saw the news. Everyone is calling us, asking questions. They're saying you…" She lowered her voice like someone might overhear. "They're saying you had an affair with some investor and Denzel attacked him?”

"That's not what happened."

"Then what DID happen?"

"That man assaulted me. Denzel defended me. That's all."

"Assaulted you?" Her voice rose. "Why didn't you call us? Why are we finding out from the news?"

"Because it just happened yesterday, Mom. And I knew you'd react exactly like this."

"Like what? Like concerned parents? Rayna, this is serious. This reflects on our entire family. Your father is already getting calls from his business associates, asking if we knew the marriage was fake….."

"It's not fake."

"Then why is everyone saying it is? Why is this investor claiming you followed him into that office willingly?"

My hands were shaking. "Because he's lying. He grabbed me. He locked the door. He tried to…." My voice cracked.

There was a pause. Then, softer: "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

"No. Denzel got there in time."

Another pause. "Well. At least there's that. But Rayna, you need to fix this. This scandal is making us all look bad. Your sister is mortified. Your father's reputation…"

"I have to go, Mom."

"Rayna..."

I hung up.

Taking a shaky breath, I scrolled through more notifications. Messages from people I hadn't talked to in years, suddenly "concerned Comments from strangers analyzing my every move, every outfit, every expression in the viral video.

And then I saw it. A text from Danielle Hamilton.

We need to talk. Can you come to my office this morning?

My stomach twisted into knots.

I got ready in a daze, choosing a conservative navy dress and minimal makeup. Professional. Composed. Like I wasn't falling apart inside.

When I came downstairs, I found Denzel in his study, phone pressed to his ear, his expression thunderous.

"I don't care what the board thinks," he was saying. "The decision stands. No, I'm not apologizing to Whitmore. Yes, I understand the optics. No, this is not up for discussion."

He hung up and looked up to find me in the doorway.

"How bad is it?" I asked quietly.

"Nothing I can't handle."

"That's not an answer."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Three more investors pulled out this morning. The board wants an emergency meeting. My PR team is having a meltdown. And apparently, Whitmore is considering a lawsuit."

"A lawsuit? For what?"

"Assault. Defamation. Take your pick."

Guilt crashed over me in waves. "This is my fault."

"No. It's not."

"You lost millions of dollars because of me. Your reputation is……"

"My reputation will recover. Money can be replaced." He stood and walked around his desk. "Are you okay? That's all that matters."

"How can you say that? Your business….."

"It's just business. You're my wife." He said it so matter-of-factly, like it explained everything.

"A contract wife," I reminded him, even as something in my chest ached at the distinction.

His jaw tightened. "Is that what you think this is? Still? After everything?"

"I don't know what this is anymore."

We stared at each other across the study, the air thick with unspoken words.

My phone buzzed. Danielle, asking where I was.

"I have to go," I said. "The foundation."

"Want me to come with you?"

"No. I need to handle this myself."

Something flickered in his eyes hurt, maybe, or frustration but he nodded. "Call me if you need anything."

Danielle's office felt different today. Less warm. More businesslike.

"Close the door," she said when I entered.

I did, my heart sinking.

"Before you say anything," I started, "I want you to know that what Whitmore said was a lie. He assaulted me. I never…"

"I know." She held up a hand. "I believe you, Rayna. That man has a reputation. You're not the first woman he's cornered." Her expression softened. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Denzel got there before anything... before he could..."

"Good." She leaned back in her chair. "But Rayna, we have a problem."

"I know. The foundation's reputation…."

"Is taking a hit, yes. Several donors have called this morning with 'concerns.' Nothing pulled yet, but they're watching. Waiting to see how this plays out."

"I'll step back. Temporarily. Until this blows over."

"That's not what I want."

I blinked. "It's not?"

‘No. It's something more than that. You might not want it. But it has to be done.”