Chapter 22: Fault Lines

“Savannah, stop walking away from me.”

Jackson’s voice chased her down the long hallway, sharp, controlled, threaded with something dangerously close to desperation.

Savannah didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. Didn’t look back.

Her pulse hammered against her ribs as she pushed through the double doors leading into the east wing sitting room, the one room in this mansion that didn’t feel like it pressed the air out of her lungs.

She needed space.

She needed to breathe.

She needed a world without Sterling eyes watching her every move , including Jackson’s.

But Jackson wasn’t a man who let things go.

He followed, steps long and unyielding, his presence filling the doorway before she could gather her thoughts.

“Savannah,” he said again, quieter this time, “look at me.”

She spun around so fast it startled him.

“Look at you?” she choked out. “I’ve been looking at you for weeks, Jackson. And every time I think I understand you, something else detonates in my face.”

His jaw flexed. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” she repeated, her voice cracking. “You dragged me into a war I didn’t even know existed , between you, your father, Delilah, the entire board. And now the press? The documents? The trust scandal? I’m drowning.”

Jackson took a slow step forward. “You’re not drowning.”

Savannah laughed , harsh, breathless. “Then please explain what this is, because I’m pretty sure normal wives don’t receive threats about their father’s care from anonymous numbers.”

Something flickered in Jackson’s eyes. Something lethal.

“Show me the message again,” he said, voice suddenly colder, darker.

“No,” Savannah snapped. “Because this isn’t about the message. This is about truth.”

Jackson’s posture stiffened.

Savannah pushed on.

“Truth you keep hiding. Truth that keeps blowing up around me. Truth that you think I can’t handle.”

“That’s not what I think,” he said.

“Then why do you treat me like something fragile?”

Her voice softened but didn’t break.

“Why do you act like telling me the truth will shatter me?”

There.

The real question beneath her ribs.

The one she had never been brave enough to voice until now.

Jackson exhaled slowly. “Because it might.”

Savannah blinked.

His voice dropped, low and rough.

“Savannah… I’m used to navigating threats, corporate sabotage, my father’s mind games. I’m used to blood in the water. But you, ” He stopped, searching for the right word. “You’re the first person in years who doesn’t feel like a weapon or a deal or a mistake.”

The confession hit her like a bolt.

But she refused to soften. Not now.

“That doesn’t justify keeping me in the dark.”

“Maybe not,” Jackson admitted. “But I’m trying.”

She shook her head. “Trying isn’t good enough anymore.”

Silence fell , heavy, strangling, sharp enough to cut.

Jackson crossed the room, closing the distance until he stood only a breath away.

She felt his presence before she felt his warmth , that magnetic pull she hated and needed in equal measure.

“Savannah,” he said lowly, “I need you to trust me.”

Her eyes lifted to his slowly.

“I can’t trust a man who edits the truth.”

His breath left him.

For the first time since she met him, Jackson Sterling looked genuinely , painfully , human.

Not furious.

Not powerful.

Not in control.

Just… undone.

Then the door burst open.

Grayson stumbled in, breathless, eyes wide. “Both of you , now. It’s the press.”

Savannah’s stomach dropped.

“What about them?”

Grayson held up his phone.

“Front-page leak. The marriage contract. The trust clause. Harrison’s tampering.”

Jackson’s face went stone-white.

Savannah whispered, “All of it?”

“All of it,” Grayson said. “Someone fed the entire story to the media.”

He swallowed.

“And they named Savannah as the whistleblower.”

“What?” Savannah gasped. “I did nothing, ”

“I know,” Grayson said quickly. “But the narrative is already out there. They’re painting you as the mastermind, the woman who schemed her way into Sterling Enterprises to expose father and son.”

Savannah’s blood turned to ice.

Jackson’s hands curled into fists.

“Delilah.”

Grayson didn’t deny it.

Savannah staggered back against the edge of a velvet sofa, her legs trembling.

“I… I didn’t do this. Jackson, ”

Jackson was already at her side, his hand gripping her arm firmly.

“I know,” he said fiercely. “Savannah, I know.”

She searched his face for doubt.

She found none.

“Then why would they believe it?” she whispered.

“Because it’s convenient,” Jackson replied, voice turning dark. “Because the board wants it to be true. Because my father wants it to be true.”

“And Delilah wants to hurt you,” Grayson added.

Jackson’s jaw clenched. “And she’s using Savannah to do it.”

Savannah swallowed hard. “So what do we do now?”

Jackson met her gaze with something fierce, something reckless, something that burned.

“Now,” he said, “we fight back.”

Savannah’s breath caught.

“Together?”

His answer came without hesitation.

“There is no fight without you.”

Before she could process the weight of those words, the entire hallway beyond the sitting room erupted with noise , footsteps, raised voices, the distant click of cameras outside the estate gates.

The storm had arrived.

Grayson looked between them. “They’re demanding a statement. Immediately.”

Jackson’s eyes locked onto Savannah’s.

She felt his decision before he spoke it.

“We go out there together,” he said. “Hand in hand.”

Savannah froze.

“Jackson, ”

“You’re my wife,” he said, moving closer, his voice low, anchoring. “Contract or not, this? This is our reality. And I won’t let them destroy you for something you didn’t do.”

Her heart throbbed painfully.

“You’re protecting me?”

He shook his head.

“No. I’m standing with you.”

The door rattled again. Voices shouted from the entrance hall.

Savannah inhaled sharply, a tremor of fear running through her , mingled with something shockingly warm.

She nodded once.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Jackson reached for her hand.

She let him take it.

Because for the first time since this began…

she didn’t feel like a pawn.

She felt like a partner.