9. Press Conference

Morning arrived too quickly.

The city was gray and tense, as if the world itself sensed the storm about to break. Reporters crowded outside the Hale headquarters, barricades already struggling to hold them back. Camera lights flickered like restless sparks.

Inside the building, Elara stood in the small waiting room just outside the press hall, clutching the armrests of a chair to steady her hands. Her breath came slow and controlled, just as Adrian had instructed.

“You will not show fear,” he had said.

“You will look them in the eye.”

“You will control the narrative before they decide it for you.”

But now that the moment was here…

Her heart wouldn’t stop racing.

Adrian entered the room with Damon behind him, both looking sharp and intimidating in tailored suits. Adrian’s presence shifted the air instantly controlled anger, authority, and something else she couldn’t name.

He scanned her from head to toe.

Not judging.

Assessing.

“You’re ready,” he said.

“I’m scared,” Elara admitted quietly.

“Good,” Adrian replied. “Fear means you understand the weight of this moment. Only careless people are fearless.”

Damon placed a tablet on the table. “The press is pushing the florist angle hardest. Someone leaked footage of Elara arranging flowers hours before the ceremony.”

Elara winced. “I knew someone must’ve recorded something…”

“They want to spin it into a scandal,” Damon added. “Last-minute bride mysterious past, unplanned marriage, possible cover-up.”

Adrian took the tablet, jaw tightening. “There will be no cover-up because there is no scandal. They will learn that today.”

He turned to Elara, lowering the screen.

“I will do the talking first,” he told her. “You answer only when necessary. You do not explain yourself unless I cue you.”

She nodded. “Understood.”

Adrian held her gaze for a long moment long enough that Elara felt the tension settle like a weight on her chest.

“Remember this,” he said. “They can only break you if you let them.”

Then he offered his arm.

Not romantically.

Not gently.

But as a silent order.

She took it.

And together, they walked toward the storm.

The Cameras Flash

The moment the doors opened, noise exploded.

Reporters surged forward, shouting questions, flashing lights so bright Elara had to blink rapidly just to see. Security barely contained the crowd.

Adrian didn’t flinch.

He guided her to the podium with a firm hand at her back protective, commanding, and unyielding.

When he took the microphone, the room fell almost completely silent.

“As most of you know,” Adrian began, his voice smooth but edged with steel, “Elara and I were married yesterday. Yes, it was sudden. And yes, it was unexpected. But every decision made was intentional, legal, and entirely mine.”

A ripple of murmurs moved across the room.

Adrian’s gaze cut through them like a blade.

“There has been speculation. Fabrications. Assumptions. Some are mildly annoying. Others are outright defamatory.”

Cameras clicked.

Elara felt dozens of eyes on her, searching for cracks.

Adrian continued, sharper now:

“No, she did not force her way into this marriage.”

“No, she is not involved in any scandal.”

“No, there is no conspiracy.”

“And no—she has nothing to hide.”

Someone called out, “Was this marriage arranged out of desperation?”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed. “You assume I do anything out of desperation.”

A collective shiver passed through the room.

Another voice: “Why her, Mr. Hale? Who is Elara Wynn?”

Elara held her breath.

Adrian turned toward her slowly.

“Elara Wynn,” he said, “is the woman I chose.”

The room erupted.

Reporters shouted over each other.

Adrian raised one hand.

Silence.

Then unexpectedly he stepped slightly aside and motioned for her to approach.

Her pulse thundered.

Her palms went cold.

This was the moment.

Elara stepped forward, gripping the podium lightly.

“I wasn’t born into money,” she said quietly. “I didn’t expect to end up in a world like this. I spent yesterday doing my job arranging flowers before everything changed. Yes, I was the florist. And yes… I was asked to step into a role I wasn’t prepared for.”

A few reporters leaned in.

“But I didn’t deceive anyone,” she continued. “I didn’t force anything. I didn’t lie. I just made a difficult choice in a moment I didn’t expect.”

Her voice trembled but only for a second.

“And I’m trying my best to honor that choice.”

Cameras flashed aggressively.

But whispers shifted not mocking, not cruel… curious.

A reporter in the front row raised her hand.

“Elara,” she said, “do you regret it?”

Elara hesitated.

Then answered honestly:

“I don’t regret being brave.”

The room fell silent.

Even Adrian looked at her differently like her answer surprised him.

But before the moment could settle

A man in the back stood abruptly and held up his phone.

His voice cut through the silence:

“Mr. Hale can you explain this?”

A new headline was displayed on the screen.

A new leak.

A photo.

A blurred screenshot.

But unmistakably Elara.

Standing outside the Hale building.

Not in a wedding dress.

And not as a florist.

With someone handing her a file.

The caption read:

“Evidence suggests Elara Wynn visited Hale Corp days BEFORE the wedding. Was this marriage planned?”

Elara’s blood ran cold.

“I’ve never” she started.

But Adrian’s expression darkened instantly.

Fury, sharp and silent, flickered across his eyes.

“Elara,” he said slowly, “did you come to my building before the wedding?”

“No,” she breathed. “I’ve never even been near it before yesterday. That picture isn’t”

More reporters stood, shouting now:

“Did she approach you first?”

“Was this a strategy?”

“Is she involved in something internal?”

“Did she plan the wedding switch?”

Elara’s pulse hammered painfully.

Adrian looked at her again harder this time.

“Elara,” he said quietly, “tell me exactly where you were the day before the wedding.”

“I was working at the shop,” she said, her voice shaking. “All day. I wasn’t anywhere near”

Another reporter shouted, “We have footage. We have time stamps.”

The room turned chaotic.

Security stepped in.

But the damage had begun.

And then over the noise, Damon rushed to the stage, pale and out of breath.

“Sir,” he whispered urgently into Adrian’s ear, “we checked the file in the photo. It matches our internal contracts.”

Elara’s heart dropped.

“What?” she whispered.

Damon swallowed. “Someone forged your signature on a document connected to the company and placed her name on it.”

Elara’s knees weakened.

“But… I never signed anything,” she whispered.

Adrian’s expression shifted from anger to something much, much colder.

He turned toward her.

“Elara,” he said, voice low enough only she could hear, “someone is framing you.”

Her breath hitched.

“But why?”

He didn’t answer.

Because he didn’t know.

Because the stakes had just multiplied.

Because whoever did this wasn’t done.

And because the next move would be deadly for her reputation or his empire.