Underdog? Cinderella?

A Week Later.......

The glossy covers of business magazines and celebrity tabloids lined the city’s newsstands.

Their headlines screamed the same story in different fonts:

“Gray Heir Seen With Mystery Secretary, Romance in the Air?”

“Damian Gray Breaks Tradition: Love Over Legacy?”

“From Desk to Heart: Who Is Natalie Rivers?”

On the front page of The Times Business, a full-color photograph showed Damian stepping out of a black car in front of the Opera House. His hand rested lightly on Natalie’s back as he guided her past the flashing cameras.

She looked radiant in a simple gown, nothing extravagant, but somehow glowing under the lights. Damian, ever the immaculate businessman, was smiling.

Not the faint, polite smirk he gave to press or rivals. No. A real smile.

The image spread like wildfire. Social media flooded with comments:

“She’s gorgeous, no wonder he’s finally opening up.”

“I always thought Kashi Saints was the fiancée, what happened?”

“Natalie is so down-to-earth. Damian looks happy for once.”

News anchors debated it live:

“Will Damian break off his engagement with the Saints heiress?”

“What does this mean for the Gray–Saints merger?”

Even late-night comedians joked, “Seems like Damian Gray likes love letters typed in Times New Roman.”

I tossed the magazine onto the table, the image of Damian and Natalie sliding across the polished wood.

Grandfather's voice was sharp, though quieter than usual. “Look at this, Kashi. The whole damn world is laughing at us.”

Frank adjusted his glasses nervously beside him. “The narrative is… shifting, Young Miss. Public sympathy is with Natalie. People see her as the underdog, the Cinderella.”

Grandfather ’s eyes locked on me, his tone heavy.

“If you still think Damian will ever be yours after this, you’re deluding yourself. He’s parading her, child. Not you. Her.”

The doors to the sitting room burst open with a loud bang.

“¡Carajo! I knew it!” Zarri stormed in, heels clicking like gunfire against the marble, a magazine already crumpled in her hand. She marched straight up to me, her hair whipping over her shoulder, eyes blazing.

She slapped the glossy cover down on the table, another shot of Damian and Natalie, his hand at the small of her back, her shy smile lighting up the camera.

“Mi encanto, tell me you’re not going to sit here and take this!” Zarri’s voice rang with fury, louder than grandfather’s had been.

She gestured wildly at the paper. “Look at this bullshit! He’s supposed to be your fiancé, and yet he’s smiling at this.... this secretary like she’s his goddamn queen!”

She paced like a caged panther, wine-red nails digging into the magazine until it ripped. “The media is already crowning her Cinderella, can you believe it? The whole city’s drunk on this fairytale romance, and you.....” she turned sharply, eyes locking on me, “you’re letting them write you out of your own story!”

I silently sip the juice in the cup I'm holding and put it down

"This are mearly rumours" I say to zarri without a single care

Zarri froze mid-stride, staring at me as though I’d just spoken another language.

“Rumours?” she repeated, her voice rising with disbelief. She grabbed the magazine off the table and shoved it toward me, the crumpled photo of Damian and Natalie staring back in smug silence. “Does that look like a rumour to you, Kashi? The man is holding her like she’s already wearing your ring!”

Grandfather James exhaled through his nose, swirling the amber in his glass. “Finally, some sense.” he muttered, though his eyes cut toward me, sharp and probing.

But Zarri wasn’t about to let go. She leaned over the table, her tone sharp and almost desperate. “Mi encanto, listen to me. Every headline, every photo, every whisper, it’s all real. And if you sit back and keep pretending it’s smoke and mirrors, they’ll turn it into truth. They’ll turn her into Mrs. Gray.”

She dropped the magazine onto the floor with a dramatic slap, her chest heaving. “I won’t stand by and watch them erase you. If you won’t fight for him, then I’ll do it for you.”

I turn to look at grandfather with a sharp glare and he turns his gaze away with a scoff. I turned my gaze back to zarri and with a soft smile on my lips I grab her hands and pull her closer.

"Zarri, you trouble yourself too much, this is mearly the work of foolish people who wants to tear me and damian apart.... come dearie, have a juice" I say handing her my cup

Zarri blinked at me, clearly thrown off by my sudden gentleness. Her fiery eyes softened just a little as she allowed me to pull her closer, her fingers tightening around mine.

“Kashi…” she whispered, still unconvinced, though my soft smile tugged at her walls. She took the cup i offered, lifting it halfway before lowering it again, her brows knitting together.

“You always do this,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “You smile like nothing can touch you, like the whole world isn’t laughing behind your back. But I know you, mi encanto. I know how deep you bleed inside.”

She finally lifted the glass, sipping slowly, her gaze never leaving my face. Then, with a sigh, she leaned her head against my shoulder, her fire dimming into quiet loyalty.

“Fine,” she said softly. “If you say it’s foolish rumours, I’ll believe you. But just remember, if the world comes for you, Kashi, I’ll tear it down myself before I let them have you.”

Grandfather James, still seated, scoffed lightly, muttering into his glass, “Tearing the world won’t change the truth.” But he said nothing more, letting the moment linger between me and Zarri.

I ignore grandfathers word and instead say to zarri "the ball is in two days, is my dress ready?"

Zarri lifted her head from my shoulder, her lips curling into a slow, mischievous smile.

“Ah, now you’re speaking my language, mi encanto.” She set the cup down and snapped her fingers dramatically. Two of our attendants, waiting quietly near the doorway, rushed in immediately.

“The dress is not only ready,” Zarri continued, her tone dripping with pride, “it is perfect. Midnight silk, custom embroidery, stones so fine even queens will turn green.” She tapped my chin gently with one manicured finger. “When you walk into that ballroom, every head will turn. And Damian....” her smirk sharpened “he’ll choke on the sight of you. That little secretary won’t even dare to breathe in your direction.”

She leaned back, stretching languidly before giving me a wink. “I told you, my Kashi doesn’t lose. Not in love, not in war, and certainly not in fashion.”

Grandfather James, who had been quiet until now, let out a rough hum. “The ball isn’t just about pretty gowns and stares. Every power in this city will be there. What you wear is one thing, but how you stand… that will determine if they still respect you as a Saint.”

He set his glass down with a heavy thud, his eyes cutting toward me with that same weight as always.

"Mm every powerhouse will be there, including x holdings since he's the one hosting the ball" I smile "this might be a good time to increase influence and power for the saints company"

Grandfather James’s brows lifted ever so slightly at my words, the flicker of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Now you’re thinking like a Saint,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Yes… the masked fox himself hosting the ball. That alone tells me this isn’t just a social gathering. He’ll be watching, weighing every rival, every ally, every weakness.”

He swirled the last of his drink and downed it, his tone sharper now. “And you my granddaughter will be standing in the spotlight."

Zarri squeezed my hand with a grin, her earlier fire now gleaming with excitement. “Imagine it, Kashi every camera flashing, every whisper on your name, every man in that ballroom wishing you were his. Even Señor Mask won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

She leaned in, whispering just for me. “And maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

James shot her a pointed look. “Careful with your words, girl. That man isn’t one to trifle with. His money is endless, his power deeper than the papers print. If you dance too close to him, Kashi, you may find yourself tangled in something even the Saints cannot untie.”

"I'm not doing it for you grandfather" I say with spite and anger. I was still very pissed at him and I don't intend to forgive him anytime soon

Grandfather James’s jaw tightened, the firelight casting hard lines across his face.

He studied me in silence for a long moment, my spite hanging between us like a blade. Then, slowly, he leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands over his lap.

“I never asked you to do it for me,” he said finally, his voice low and steady, carrying the weight of steel. “Do it for yourself. Do it because if you don’t, they will eat you alive.”

He turned his gaze toward the flames, refusing to look at me now. “You think anger makes you strong, child? It doesn’t. Anger without focus is just noise. If you truly hate me, then prove me wrong. Prove to me and to the world that you don’t need my approval to stand tall as a Saint.”

His words ended like the slam of a door, and with that, he picked up his glass again, dismissing the conversation entirely.

"I don't need your approval to be a saint. Never have, never will" I say to him and walked out with zarri trailing behind me.

Zarri, still at my side, squeezed my hand tightly, her eyes soft but burning she whispered fiercely. “You don’t need his pride. You’ll shine at the ball and when you do, everyone will know Damian Gray and that secretary are nothing compared to you.”