CHAPTER 24: The Vogue Interview

The Vogue offices were everything I'd imagined—sleek, modern, intimidating.

Victoria had dressed me in a cream silk blouse and tailored navy pants. Simple. Elegant. The kind of outfit that said "I'm not trying too hard but I still have taste."

"Remember," she coached in the car. "Hands on belly when talking about the baby. Smile when mentioning Alexander. No defensive body language about James."

"I feel like I'm preparing for battle."

"You are." She squeezed my hand. "But you're going to win."

The interviewer was Elena Martinez—ironically, we shared a last name—a journalist in her forties with kind eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor.

"Bella, thank you for sitting down with us." She gestured to the plush chair across from her. "I know this has been a difficult week."

"That's an understatement," I said, then caught myself. Too negative. Victoria had warned me about that.

Elena smiled. "Let's start at the beginning. How did you and Alexander Sterling meet?"

I'd practiced this answer a dozen times.

"We met at a charity gala. I was there with James—we were dating at the time. Alexander and I barely spoke that night. Just a brief introduction."

"And when did that change?"

"Months later. After James and I had broken up. We ran into each other at a coffee shop." The lie came smoothly. We couldn't tell the truth—one-night stand, accidental pregnancy. "We started talking. It was... unexpected."

"Unexpected how?"

"I never imagined I'd fall for someone like Alexander. The age difference, the fact that he was my ex's father—it should have been impossible. But sometimes the heart doesn't care about logic."

Elena leaned forward. "James Sterling has given interviews claiming you deliberately pursued his father for money. How do you respond to that?"

My chest tightened. Victoria had prepared me for this question, but it still stung.

"It's not true," I said simply. "I was a high school teacher making $45,000 a year. I had my own apartment, my own life. I didn't need anyone's money." I paused. "James is hurt. I understand that. But hurt doesn't excuse lies."

"You're being very gracious toward him."

"I spent a year with James. I know he's capable of better than this. But right now, he's lashing out." I touched my stomach—Victoria's coaching. "I just hope someday he'll find peace."

"Let's talk about the baby. There are rumors—"

"The baby is Alexander's," I said firmly. "Anyone suggesting otherwise is either misinformed or deliberately spreading lies. We have medical documentation, timeline records, everything."

"And the engagement? Some say it's rushed."

"It is rushed." I smiled. "But when you know, you know. Alexander and I didn't plan to fall in love. We didn't plan this pregnancy. But now that we have both, we're not going to apologize for wanting to build a family together."

"How has Alexander been during the pregnancy?"

My smile became genuine. "Incredible. He comes to every doctor's appointment. He researches baby items at 2 AM. He talks to my stomach when he thinks I'm asleep." I laughed. "It's terrifying and wonderful and completely unexpected."

"You love him."

It wasn't a question.

"I do," I said softly. "I know it looks crazy from the outside. I know people think I'm too young, or it's too fast, or I'm after his money. But I love him. Completely. Messily. Inconveniently."

Elena smiled. "Inconveniently?"

"His word, not mine." I grinned. "But yes. This isn't convenient. It's complicated and public and sometimes overwhelming. But it's real. And that's what matters."

"One last question—what do you say to people who judge you for this relationship?"

I took a breath, thinking of Catherine, of James, of all the strangers online tearing me apart.

"I say... you don't know our story. You don't know what we've been through, what we feel, what we're building together. Judge all you want. But at the end of the day, I'm choosing love over fear. And I hope that's something everyone can understand."

---

The photoshoot was surreal.

They had me in designer dresses—Valentino, Dior, brands I'd only seen in magazines. Nothing too revealing. Everything classy.

"Hand on belly," the photographer directed. "Good. Now look toward the window. Thoughtful. Like you're dreaming about the future."

I wasn't acting. I was thinking about August. About holding our baby. About whether they'd have Alexander's eyes or my smile.

"Beautiful," the photographer murmured. "That's the shot."

Victoria appeared with her phone. "The interview quotes are already trending. 'When you know, you know.' People are eating it up."

"Really?"

"T*****r is split, obviously. But the sentiment is shifting. You came across as genuine. Sympathetic." She showed me her screen.

@SarahM_NYC: I was ready to hate her but honestly? She seems sweet. And clearly in love.

@MediaWatcher: Bella Martinez handled that interview with grace. James Sterling could learn something.

@TeamBella2025: Anyone who watched that and still thinks she's a gold-digger is delusional. That's real love.

Not everyone was kind—there were still plenty of hateful comments—but Victoria was right. The tide was turning.

"One down," Victoria said. "GMA tomorrow. Then we wait for James's article and respond accordingly."

"Do you think it'll work? Our strategy?"

"Honestly? I think you already won." She smiled. "You didn't try to be perfect. You were just... you. That's what people connect with."

---

That night, Alexander came home to find me on the couch, surrounded by printouts of the Vogue article.

"How many times have you read it?" he asked, amused.

"Four. I keep waiting to see something embarrassing."

"You were perfect." He sat beside me, pulling me close. "Elena called my publicist. She said you were one of the most genuine interviews she's done in years."

"Really?"

"Really." He kissed my temple. "I'm proud of you. I know how hard that was."

"Victoria helped. She's amazing."

"She likes you. That's rare. Victoria doesn't like most people."

"She said she always wanted a little sibling."

Alexander's expression softened. "She did?"

"Mmhmm. I think she's excited. In her own terrifying, MBA-wielding way."

He laughed. "That's Victoria." Then his phone buzzed. He glanced at it and his smile faded.

"What?"

"Marcus. James's article just got moved up. It's running tomorrow instead of next week."

My stomach dropped. "Tomorrow? But we haven't done GMA yet—"

"He's trying to undercut us. Release his version before we finish telling ours."

"What do we do?"

Alexander's jaw set. "We move up GMA. I'll call the producers now. We go live tomorrow morning, right after his article drops. Immediate response."

"Can they do that?"

"For this story? For the ratings it'll bring?" He was already dialing. "They'll do it."

I watched him negotiate—calm, authoritative, getting exactly what he wanted.

This was the Alexander Sterling the business world knew. The man who built empires.

But when he hung up and looked at me, his eyes were soft.

"Tomorrow morning. 7 AM. Live television. You and me."

"Together," I said.

"Together."

I should have been terrified.

Instead, with Alexander's hand in mine, I felt ready.

James wanted a war?

We'd give him one.