Chapter Fourteen — “The Line She Won’t Cross”

The next morning, the headline still burned behind my eyes.

BREAKING: Mystery Wife’s Sister Admitted to Underfunded Facility — Does Kingsley Know?

There was Lily. Pale. Fragile. Alone in that photo. Her private battle turned into public ammunition.

I didn’t cry.

I couldn’t.

Something in me had gone very still.

I walked into the sunlit kitchen where Damian stood, back to me, reading over a stack of reports. Casual. Composed. As if the world hadn’t just weaponized my sister.

“You don’t get to define my worth,” I said quietly.

He turned, brow twitching faintly.

“You bought my time,” I added, stronger now. “Not my soul.”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t speak.

I didn’t wait for him to. I left before he could offer silence dressed as a strategy.

This time, I didn’t walk away like a girl hoping he’d follow.

I walked away like a woman drawing her line in the sand.

⸻

Downstairs, Naomi caught me in the hallway. Her eyes flicked left and right before she spoke.

“She’s pushing another story. About Lily’s hospital records. Damian didn’t say anything, but…”

She led me to her office and tapped a key.

Onscreen: a pending tab in a press backend. My name. Lily’s name. A loaded headline waiting to be fired.

Suddenly, the screen blinked. The file vanished.

I stared.

“Was that—?”

“Damian’s login,” Naomi whispered. “He deleted it. No trail.”

No explanation. No credit.

But he did it.

A quiet blow against Helena.

A small act of war.

⸻

By noon, Helena was already two steps ahead.

She burst into the Kingsley boardroom with the elegance of a queen and the timing of an executioner. The room hushed as she handed thick folders to each board member.

Her voice was soft. Almost maternal.

“I’m here because I care about this company. About Damian. And I think we all deserve to know the truth about the woman now tied to the Kingsley name.”

Her nails tapped against the folders as they were opened pages full of rumours, doctored photos, old debts, and grainy shots from my lowest days.

“Ava Reynolds has a past,” she said, her tone sugar-laced poison. “And when that past catches up to her, it won’t be her name in the headlines. It’ll be ours.”

A few board members exchanged wary glances.

“She’s unstable. Distracting. And if we don’t act soon—”

“Get out.”

The words didn’t come from a whisper.

They came from thunder.

Damian stood, knuckles white against the edge of the table. His voice dropped lower.

“I said get out. Now.”

The room froze. Helena’s lips parted in disbelief.

“Damian”

His fist hit the table. “I will not say it again.”

Even I jumped at the sound.

She gathered her folder slowly. Smiled that venomous smile. And turned.

But as she left the room, she didn’t look at him.

She looked at me.

Her stare was a promise.

She wasn’t done.

⸻

Later that evening, I sat alone in the bedroom, my fingers tracing the edge of a sketch I’d drawn months ago a modest health initiative I once dreamed of building in Lily’s name.

Back then, I thought love would save us.

Now I knew better.

Love didn’t always come with warmth. Sometimes they wore suits. Sometimes it made deals. Sometimes it said nothing at all and still burned the world down to protect you.

But I also knew this:

I wouldn’t lose myself again.

Not for Ethan.

Not for Helena.

And not even for the man who deleted headlines without ever saying my name.

⸻

Down the hall, Damian sat alone in his office. He stared at his screen, the ghost of Helena’s file still in his memory. The deletion hadn’t satisfied him. It hadn’t undone the damage.

He opened another folder. Hesitated.

Then closed it.

Outside, the city lights blinked like dying stars.

⸻

Helena wasn’t wrong. I had a past. But so did every woman who’d ever been dismissed, beaten down, or erased by someone like her.

And I’d be damned if she turned Lily into a headline again.

There were lines I wouldn’t cross.

But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t fight.

Only this time, I’d fight on my terms.

Not with secrets.

With truth.

And fire.