Chapter 16

The photo of Christopher kissing me on the dance floor was everywhere by morning.

I woke up to my phone buzzing incessantly, notifications flooding in faster than I could read them. Articles with headlines like "Billionaire's Mystery Wife Steals the Show at Charity Gala" and "Christopher Zane's Public Display of Affection Shocks High Society" dominated every news site and social media platform.

Christopher was already awake, sitting up in bed with his own phone, scrolling through what I assumed were similar notifications. His hair was messy from sleep, his expression unreadable as he read.

"It's everywhere," I said unnecessarily, stating the obvious.

"I know." He set his phone down and turned to me, searching my face. "How do you feel about that?"

I considered the question, trying to parse through the complicated tangle of emotions. "Exposed. Like everyone in the world saw a private moment that should have been just ours." I paused. "But also relieved. We don't have to hide anymore."

Christopher's expression softened. He reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "For what it's worth, I don't regret it. That kiss was real, and I wanted everyone to know it."

"Even Victoria?" I asked wryly.

"Especially Victoria." His jaw tightened. "I'm sorry she ambushed us like that. The photo she orchestrated, trying to insert herself between us—that was calculated."

I'd seen that photo too, already circulating alongside the kissing photo. Victoria positioned between Christopher and me, her smile triumphant, like she was still part of his life in a way I could never be.

"She's not going to give up easily, is she?" I said quietly.

"No. But that's not your problem to solve. It's mine." Christopher's voice was firm. "I'll handle Victoria. I should have shut her down permanently years ago instead of just keeping my distance."

Before I could respond, my phone rang. Emily's name flashed on the screen.

"I should take this," I said, and Christopher nodded, slipping out of bed to give me privacy.

"Em?" I answered, my stomach already knotting with anxiety. "Everything okay?"

"Have you seen the news?" Emily's voice was tight, controlled in a way that told me she was barely holding it together.

"About the gala? Yes. I'm sorry you had to find out everything like this—"

"Not about the gala, Ana." Emily cut me off, and I heard something break in her voice. "About Thomas. There's an article. Multiple articles, actually. About his arrest."

The world seemed to tilt. "What?"

"He was arrested yesterday for embezzlement. Apparently he's been stealing from his company for months, and they finally caught him." Emily let out a shaky laugh. "Turns out the reason he was so obsessed with money wasn't just greed. He was desperate because he'd been using company funds to cover his gambling debts."

I sat frozen, trying to process this information. "Em, I had no idea—"

"Neither did I. But now it's all over the news, and because of your connection to Christopher, reporters are calling it a scandal. They're saying things like 'Billionaire's Sister-in-Law Married to White-Collar Criminal' and speculating about whether you knew, whether Christopher knew, whether this whole thing is some kind of elaborate cover-up."

Horror washed over me. "Emily, I'm so sorry. This is my fault. If I hadn't married Christopher, if we hadn't gone public—"

"Stop." Emily's voice was firm. "This is not your fault. Thomas made his choices long before you married Christopher. I'm calling to make sure you're okay, not the other way around."

"I should be asking you that," I said, my throat tight. "Your husband was just arrested."

"Ex-husband, as soon as the divorce papers are finalized." There was steel in Emily's voice I'd never heard before. "I'm done with Thomas, Ana. I'm done feeling guilty or responsible for his choices. But I'm worried about you. This is going to be brutal."

She wasn't wrong. I could already see my phone lighting up with new notifications, new articles connecting Thomas's arrest to Christopher, to me, spinning a web of scandal that threatened to engulf us all.

Christopher reappeared in the doorway, his expression grim. "I just got off the phone with my PR team. They're seeing the same thing we are."

"I have to go," I told Emily. "But Em, if you need anything—"

"I know. I love you, Ana."

"I love you too."

I hung up and looked at Christopher, feeling the weight of this new crisis settling over us like a suffocating blanket. "This is bad, isn't it?"

"It's manageable." Christopher moved to sit beside me, taking my hand. "My team is already drafting a statement making it clear that we had no knowledge of Thomas's activities, that Emily is in the process of divorcing him, and that this is a separate matter that has nothing to do with our family."

"But people won't believe that," I said, my voice hollow. "They'll think we knew, that we're somehow complicit. Or worse, they'll think I married you to protect Emily and Thomas from legal trouble."

"Let them think whatever they want. We know the truth." Christopher's grip on my hand tightened. "Anastasia, look at me."

I did, seeing the determination in his blue eyes.

"This doesn't change anything between us," he said firmly. "Thomas's crimes are his own. Emily is your sister, and we'll support her through this, but we are not responsible for her ex-husband's choices."

"Your father is going to love this," I said bitterly. "First you marry someone completely inappropriate, and now there's a scandal involving white-collar crime. I'm exactly the kind of liability he was worried about."

"My father's opinion doesn't matter." Christopher cupped my face, forcing me to maintain eye contact. "You are not a liability. You're my wife, and I choose you. Every single day, I choose you."

The conviction in his words made my eyes burn with tears. "Even when choosing me makes your life harder?"

"Especially then." He kissed my forehead, gentle and grounding. "Now get dressed. We're going to face this head-on."

An hour later, we sat in Christopher's home office, video conferencing with his PR team, his lawyers, and his head of security. The professionals moved with efficient precision, outlining strategy and damage control.

The statement would go out within the hour, carefully worded to distance us from Thomas while expressing support for Emily. Christopher's lawyers were already looking into whether Thomas had any business connections to Zane Enterprises that needed to be severed. Security was being assigned to Emily and Caleb in case reporters tried to harass them.

"What about the bookstore?" I asked suddenly. "If reporters are going to be circling, they'll show up there."

Margaret, Christopher's assistant, made a note. "We can arrange security for Chapter & Verse as well. Discrete, so they don't disrupt business, but present enough to deter aggressive media."

The idea of needing security at my small bookstore felt surreal, like I'd slipped into someone else's life entirely.

"There's one more thing," Christopher's head of PR, a sharp woman named Diana, said carefully. "Ms. Ashford has been making statements to the press. Implying that she warned you about getting involved with the Zane family, that the stress of Christopher's world is what drove Thomas to crime, various other insinuations designed to paint this as a cautionary tale."

My hands clenched in my lap. Of course Victoria was using this to her advantage.

"Ignore her," Christopher said coldly. "Victoria's desperate attempts to stay relevant aren't our concern."

"With respect, Mr. Zane, we can't ignore her entirely," Diana countered. "She's positioned herself as a concerned friend trying to protect Mrs. Zane from the dangers of high society. It's playing well with certain demographics who already view this marriage skeptically."

"Then we counter it," Christopher said. "What do you suggest?"

Diana pulled up several documents on the screen. "We have a few options. We could arrange an exclusive interview with a reputable outlet, let you both tell your story in your own words. We could focus on philanthropic efforts, show Mrs. Zane actively engaging with the Zane Foundation's work. Or we could simply weather the storm and let it blow over naturally."

I looked at Christopher, seeing the tension in his jaw. He hated this, I realized. Hated that I was being subjected to public scrutiny and strategic PR management, that our relationship had become something to be managed and spun.

"The interview," I said suddenly, and everyone turned to look at me. "Let's do the interview. I'm tired of other people controlling the narrative. If we're going to face this, let's do it honestly."

Christopher studied me carefully. "Are you sure? An interview means opening up our private life, answering potentially invasive questions."

"I know. But hiding just makes us look guilty. And I'm not ashamed of us or our story." I met his gaze steadily. "Are you?"

"No." His answer was immediate, certain. "Never."

"Then let's tell people the truth. Not Victoria's version, not speculation from strangers, but the real story of how we met and why we're together." I turned to Diana. "Can you arrange something?"

Diana nodded approvingly. "I can reach out to a few trusted journalists. Someone who will be fair but thorough. We'll need to prep you both extensively, anticipate difficult questions, but yes. We can make this work."

The rest of the meeting was spent outlining strategy and timeline. The interview would happen within the week, before the narrative could solidify further. In the meantime, we'd maintain a low profile, no public appearances beyond what was absolutely necessary.

When the call finally ended, I slumped back in my chair, exhausted despite the early hour.

"You didn't have to agree to the interview," Christopher said quietly. "We could have waited this out."

"No, we couldn't. Not really." I turned to look at him. "Victoria is out there spinning stories, making it seem like I'm some naive girl who got in over her head. Thomas's arrest makes it look like my family is corrupt. If we don't take control of the narrative, someone else will do it for us."

Christopher was quiet for a moment, his expression contemplative. "You've changed since we met. Gotten stronger. More confident."

"I've had to," I said simply. "Your world doesn't leave room for weakness."

"My world shouldn't require you to constantly prove yourself worthy." He sounded angry, but not at me. At the circumstances, at the pressure, at everything that made this harder than it should be.

"But it does, so here we are." I reached for his hand. "We face it together, remember?"

"Together," he agreed, squeezing my hand.

My phone buzzed with a text from Claire.

Claire: Just saw the news about Thomas. Are you okay? Do you need me to handle the store today?

The reminder that I had a business to run, responsibilities beyond this crisis, was oddly grounding.

Anastasia: I'm okay. I'll be there this afternoon. Security might show up though, so don't be alarmed.

Claire: SECURITY?! Ana, this is insane.

Anastasia: I know. But it's temporary. This will blow over.

I had to believe that. Had to believe that eventually, the scandal would fade and life would return to something resembling normal.

Christopher stood, pulling me up with him. "Come on. We're going to get breakfast, something decadent and completely impractical. Then I'm driving you to the bookstore myself."

"You don't have to do that," I protested. "You have work—"

"Work can wait." His expression was firm. "You're not facing this alone, Anastasia. Not today, not ever."

The fierce protectiveness in his voice made my chest tight. This was what partnership looked like, I realized. Not grand gestures or perfect moments, but showing up when things got hard, refusing to let the other person shoulder the burden alone.

We had breakfast at a small café Christopher knew, tucked away from the main streets. He'd called ahead, and they'd reserved a private corner table where we could eat without being photographed or interrupted. The food was delicious, the atmosphere quiet and peaceful, a temporary reprieve from the chaos.

"Thank you," I said as we finished eating. "For this. For everything."

"You don't have to thank me for being your husband," Christopher said, but there was softness in his voice. "This is what I signed up for. The complicated parts as much as the easy ones."

"I don't think either of us signed up for quite this much complication," I pointed out wryly.

"No," he agreed. "But maybe that's what makes it real. The fact that we're choosing to stay despite the complications."

As we left the café and headed toward Christopher's car, I felt steadier than I had that morning. The scandal with Thomas was still there, Victoria was still circling like a vulture, and the interview would undoubtedly be challenging.

But I wasn't facing any of it alone.

And maybe that was enough to get us through whatever came next.

Because love wasn't about perfect circumstances or easy choices.

It was about standing beside someone when the world tried to tear you apart, and choosing them anyway.