THE FALLOUT

“No, this can't be true.” Her eyes rose over the headline again, hoping the words would change, but they refused to. She read it again. There had to be a mistake.

For a long moment, she simply stared at the screen. With trembling fingers, she tapped the post; the article loaded for what felt like an eternity.

Lena wished she could look away, but her mind raced with hundreds of questions.

After a few seconds, it appeared. She let out a small breath she didn't realize she was holding.

There it was.

Damn it.

A picture of her and Noah at the arena, his arm wrapped around her waist. She never realized this would go this far—a national headline at that.

Her finger drifted to the comment section before she could realize what she was doing. Her gaze darted from one comment to the next.

“Lena Carter is so shameless.”

“Another gold digger.”

“This was the reason she broke up with the sports reporter.”

“She's just there for Noah Hayes' fame and money.”

Her stomach twisted, wishing the ground would swallow her whole. Lena kept scrolling anyway. She couldn't stop herself from reading; instead, she scrolled again. One comment stopped her cold:

”Low-budget prostitute.”

What the fuck. She swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat refused to go away. She wished for one minute she could come face-to-face with the coward who commented that, hiding behind that screen.

“You guys are all motherfuckers.” The curse ripped from her throat. “You all know nothing about me. Your so-called sports reporter, Ethan, cheated on me.” She threw herself onto the couch and flung her phone beside her, not minding if the screen cracked.

“Fuck your opinions,” she muttered, flashing her middle finger at the empty room.

The next morning, Lena had barely made it through the office doors before the receptionist stopped her.

“Mr. Reynold is expecting you inside his office.” Her finger curled against the strap of her bag. Of course, she had been expecting this. She forced a tight smile. “Sure.”

The hallway seemed longer than she could remember, as every step she took to Mr. Reynold's office felt heavier than the last. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Knock, knock, knock. No answer. Just as her hand lifted to knock again, a deep voice echoed from the other side of the door. “Come in.”

Her knees threatened to give out as she reached for the doorknob and walked in.

Mr. Reynold sat behind his desk, his neatly combed gray hair matching his dark gray suit. His reading glasses rested low on the bridge of his nose. He looked up from the file on his desk, his sharp eyes settling on her.

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here.” His tone left no room for argument.

Without a word, she gave a slow nod and lowered herself onto the chair, her fingers twisting the hem of her dress.

“I'm sure you have seen the headline, and you know what’s at stake. What's going on?”

“I'm as confused as you are. Those reporters are twisting the whole thing. I got caught up with the crowd…”

“Enough,” he cut her off. “That's your problem. The rumors between you and Noah Hayes are causing a big scandal on the internet, and it is affecting our firm.” The finality in his tone said it all. Panic clawed at her chest as the office suddenly felt stifling, making it harder for her to breathe.

“Sir, I can explain.” Her voice broke. “I'm not in a relationship with Noah, as the internet claims. I don't even know who the fuck he is.” The sudden boom of his voice made her flinch.

“Miss Carter, listen.” He dragged a hand down his face before looking back at her.

“Like I said before, that's not my problem. Do you have any idea what that single moment has cost? Sponsors are threatening to walk away, and this company can't afford that.” He paused, choosing his next words carefully before continuing. “All because of that one fucking clip of you two together."

“Sir, it's not what it looks like…”

“Save it.” His gaze remained fixed on her. “Do you think the public is going to believe that as an excuse? You have to find a way to fix this. Hope slipped through her fingers as hot tears blurred her vision.

“Sir…”

“I’m done with you. Clear up these rumors, and your job stays—unless you lose it.”

She blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall. “This job is all I have; it's my fucking income.”

“Out now! As you can see, I was in the middle of something before you came in.”

She stood up to leave, but his next words stopped her in her tracks.

“Remember, until you fix this scandal, don't bother setting foot in this firm. And close the door behind you.”

Without a word, she walked out of the office. The tears she had been fighting blurred her vision.

Across the city, Noah stood by the window, a glass of water in one hand while his fingers of the other hand tapped against the polished wood.

He turned towards Olivia. One look at her face told him everything.

“This scandal is getting out of hand,” Olivia said, tossing a folder onto his desk. “It is already creating a big mess. Just this morning, three sponsors have already called; they’re threatening to pull their endorsement deals.“

“Over one harmless photo."

“Well, it's about to put you in a bigger dilemma.”

“I was just trying to help a stranger who was overwhelmed by reporters, each throwing questions at her. Was that a big deal?"

She searched for the right words, her thoughts coming out faster than she expected. “Unfortunately, the internet isn't seeing it the way you do. They are only seeing a photograph of their favorite hockey star with his arm wrapped around a stranger's waist, of all places.”

“You have got to be kidding. It was nothing to me! How many times will I have to say it?”

She looked at him longer than she expected before she spoke again.

“You don't seem to understand how serious this is. The lady in question happens to be Ethan's ex-girlfriend, and now that one photo of you and her has made the public believe you two are together. And you were the reason they broke up.”

"Explain to me why, after she broke up with him, she was spotted a few days later with a man whose arm was wrapped around her waist— and that man happens to be you. What do you expect the public to believe?"

"Holy crap! I literally don't even know who that lady is. I just helped her that day out of kindness and nothing more. I have nothing to do with her."

You know what? I'm done with this discussion, and I hope you realize how much damage this photo has cost us.

A sharp knock cut through the room. Neither of them spoke; they both glanced at each other.

“Come in.” The door opened slightly, and someone peeked through the doorway. “The press room is full. The reporters are waiting.”