Damage control

Chapter Four: Damage control

Xander Savage was sleeping when his bedroom door slammed open.

“XANDER!”

He jerked awake, heart racing, eyes unfocused as sunlight streamed through the tall windows of his room. His phone vibrated violently on the bedside table, screen lighting up again and again.

“What…” he muttered, pushing himself upright.

Wendy stood at the foot of his bed, blue hair loose, face pale but sharp with anger. She was holding her phone out toward him like evidence.

“You’re trending,” she said. “And not for football.”

Xander frowned, rubbing his face. “What are you talking about?”

“Freya Woods,” Wendy snapped. “She posted your Snapchat chats.”

The words hit him like cold water. He grabbed his phone, fingers clumsy as he unlocked it. Notifications flooded the screen. Mentions. Headlines. Screenshots. His name everywhere.

XANDER SAVAGE EXPOSED?

LEGACY CEO’S SON ACCUSED OF SABOTAGE!

PHOTOGRAPHER CLAIMS REJECTION COST HER CAREER

Xander’s chest tightened as he scrolled. There they were. Messages he recognized. Voice notes. Screenshots of conversations from weeks ago. Some cropped. Some out of context. Some painfully real.

Freya’s caption sat boldly at the top.

I rejected him. Then suddenly LEGACY wasn’t hiring anymore. Funny how power works.

His hands shook.

“She leaked everything,” Wendy continued, pacing. “T*****r’s on fire. TikTok’s worse. Half the internet thinks you ruined her career. The other half thinks she’s clout chasing.”

Xander stared at the screen, throat dry. “She said what?”

“That you’re the CEO’s son who couldn’t take rejection,” Wendy said flatly. “Congratulations.”

He let the phone drop onto the bed.

“She blocked me,” he said quietly. “I never even…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Wendy cut in. “This is bad. Mum and Dad are going to lose it.”

As if summoned by the thought, footsteps echoed faintly from the corridor.

Wendy crossed her arms. “They’re going to kill you for this scandal.”

Xander leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes. He drew in a slow breath, then another, trying to steady himself.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, more to himself than to her.

Wendy scoffed. “Try telling the internet that.”

***

Breakfast at the Savage household was usually quiet.

Greg Savage sat at the head of the table, jaw clenched, newspaper folded neatly but untouched beside his plate. Courtney sat opposite him, posture composed but eyes hard. Wendy picked angrily at her food. Xander sat straight-backed, hands folded, expression calm in the way only made people angrier.

“Do you understand,” Greg said slowly, “the position you’ve put this family in?”

Xander nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Greg’s hand slammed against the table. “You are not just a footballer. You are our son. You carry our name.”

“I know,” Xander said quietly.

Courtney turned to him, disappointment sharper than anger in her gaze. “You told me you didn’t know her personally.”

Xander swallowed. “I should have been clearer. I’m sorry, Mum.”

Greg scoffed. “Sorry won’t fix the headlines.”

Courtney leaned back slightly. “Why did you ask me to give her a trial if you knew her?”

Xander met her eyes. “Because she’s talented. And because I didn’t want what happened between us to affect her career.”

Silence followed.

Wendy laughed harshly. “Look where that got you.”

Courtney sighed, rubbing her temple. “I didn’t hire her because she wasn’t fit. She lacked etiquette, manners, humility, professionalism, and confidence.”

“She was rude,” Greg added. “Arrogant.”

“And now she’s trying to destroy us,” Wendy said. “She’s my enemy for life.”

Xander looked down at his plate. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “To all of you.”

Courtney studied him for a long moment. “This is why we have PR,” she said at last. “And they’re handling it.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

Greg’s voice softened only slightly. “This cannot happen again.”

“It won’t,” Xander promised. But even as he said it, his chest felt tight.

***

Freya adjusted her camera lens, forcing a smile as her client laughed across the small café table.

“Let’s take five,” the woman said, standing. “Coffee break?”

“Sure,” Freya replied automatically. She set the camera down and reached for her phone. The notification was already there.

OFFICIAL STATEMENT FROM XANDER SAVAGE

Her fingers trembled as she opened it. It read:

(The Snapchat conversations circulating online are false. I have never met or spoken to Freya Woods personally. Any claims suggesting otherwise are untrue.)

Her vision blurred. She scrolled. She glared at thousands of comments: 

"She’s lying."

"Clout chaser."

"Trying to bring him down."

"Disgusting behaviour."

Her hands began to shake uncontrollably.

“He denied everything,” she whispered. She locked her phone, swallowing hard, trying to breathe.

***

The art gallery at North Fall University was quiet, the way Freya liked it. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, dust motes floating in the air. She walked between shelves, searching for a magazine she needed for a project, her mind spinning.

“Freya.”

She turned sharply.

Xander stood behind her, hoodie pulled low, hands raised slightly as if to calm her.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped.

“I need to talk to you,” he said.

“You ruined my life,” she shot back. “And now you want to talk?”

“I didn’t tell my mum not to hire you,” he said quickly. “I swear.”

She laughed bitterly. “Then what about the press release?”

“My mother controls my PR,” he replied. “I woke up to it too. It was damage control.”

“So you just let them call me a liar?”

His jaw tightened. “You shouldn’t have posted our private conversations.”

Her eyes flashed. “You made me look crazy.”

“And you made me look corrupt,” he said. “We’re both wrong.”

Freya’s chest heaved. She pulled out her phone. “Say that on live.”

Xander’s eyes widened. “Don’t.”

She tapped the screen. He moved fast, pulling his hoodie over his face and turning away as the live notification flashed.

“XANDER SAVAGE JUST STALKED ME,” Freya said loudly into her phone, already moving. “Look at this.”

He ran.

Freya dropped her bag, camera clattering to the floor as she chased him, breath burning, phone held high. Comments flooded the screen, hearts flying, messages scrolling too fast to read.

“He’s running!” she shouted. “Why are you running if you’re innocent?”

They turned corners, students staring, voices rising. Then he was gone. Freya stopped abruptly, chest heaving, spinning in place. She had lost him. The live video continued.