The camera light was hot, it was Blinding.But I didn’t blink, not even once.I sat with my back straight, fingers lightly interlocked on my lap. Across from me, the host—a tall, composed woman named Vivien Gray—smiled with professional calm. We’d never met before this moment. But I could already tell she was sharp, fair, and didn’t intend to give me an easy pass.I didn’t want one.“Welcome,” she said, voice clear as glass. “Tonight, we have Naomi Montego-Darlington joining us in her first and only live interview regarding the controversial relaunch of the Sanborn Project.”I smiled politely. “Thank you for having me.”Vivien turned slightly to the main camera. “There’s been much speculation—about your return, about the legacy you carry, and about what Sanborn really means to the communities it’s meant to serve. We’re going to unpack that tonight.”“Please,” I said softly. “Let’s.”She leaned forward. “Let’s begin with the obvious: why now?”The question echoed in my chest.Why now?
Naomi's POV The studio smelled like warm lights and polished wood. It was too bright, Too sterile, Like a courtroom dressed as a stage.Everything buzzed—cables, phones, makeup brushes fluttering like moths around my cheeks. Charlotte paced near the back, whispering updates into her headset. The stylist tugged gently at my sleeve while the producer double-checked my mic, her voice cool and efficient.We were fifteen minutes from going live.Charlotte paced outside the door. Kendra was in the control room, coordinating slides. I stared at my reflection in the vanity mirror—still Naomi, but my face was looking sharper, Softer, too. My features were calm, but something inside me trembled, shifting like a storm beneath calm waters. This was the moment they’d been trying to crush. And here I was—still standing, still speaking, still me.And carrying life.The thought made my throat tighten.Raymond had offered to wait backstage, but I asked him to stay home with Miranda instead. I neede
Naomi's POV The article dropped before I opened my eyes.I knew it before my phone lit up. Something in the air had changed, it was heavier, tighter, like a storm pressing against the glass from the outside in.Kendra’s message came first: You’re trending and It’s not good.Raymond was still asleep beside me. Miranda was humming faintly in her room, her voice rising and falling like birdsong through the hallway. But the moment I tapped the link Kendra sent, the warmth in my chest turned to ice.> “Beneath the Violets: Naomi Montego’s Quiet Rise Back to Power”Scandal, Silence, Secrets, What does the Montego heiress owe the public—and what is she hiding?They didn’t hold back.They dragged up my father’s withdrawal from Sanborn, Rehashed the takeover attempt by Rachel. They Questioned the timing of our revival, claimed I was using “soft feminism and trauma language” to rebrand myself after disgrace. They didn’t call me a fraud outright—but they didn’t have to, The implications curled
Raymond's POV I’ve sat in rooms with billion-dollar contracts on the table a lot of times and never felt as much pressure as I did watching Naomi stir her tea three times and not drink it.She hadn’t touched her coffee that morning either, or her toast, and the past few nights, she’d tossed and turned so much that I stopped pretending to be asleep and just held her hand under the sheets.She said it was just stress. That her mind was too full. And I believed that—partly. But there was something else, something deeper vibrating beneath the surface of her. She was running on fumes, emotionally and physically, and I wasn’t sure she realized it.Naomi wasn’t someone who asked for help. She offered it like oxygen to others, but when it came to herself, she tightened like a fist. She thought surviving meant silence. But I’d learned her language—the small pauses, the forced smiles, the way she flinched from garlic one night when I was cooking, only to pretend nothing was wrong.It was sub
Naomi's POV We started the next morning with a list.Leona sat across from me at the conference table, tying her curls into a tight knot as I spread the Sanborn materials across the surface.“We need three things before we go near Elijah Cross,” she said. “Legal cover, political leverage, and someone he doesn’t see coming.”I nodded, already making notes. “Beatrice knows people in planning and zoning. I’ll talk to her today. We need the Sanborn land frozen—no sudden transfers.”“I’ll talk to Kendra,” Leona added. “She’s still got friends in investigative journalism. Quiet ones.”“And Rachel?” I asked.Leona’s jaw ticked. “Keep her busy. Just not involved in this.”I didn’t argue.While Leona made calls, I sat down with Beatrice in the small staff kitchen.She listened carefully, then opened her planner and pulled out a business card. “City registrar owes me a favor. He can flag that land for public interest. Temporary hold. Give you some breathing room.”“What do I say to him?”“Noth
Naomi's POV I read the letter three more times before I locked it in the bottom drawer of my desk.Not because I was afraid of it.But because I didn’t want it where I could see it every time I looked up, it won't make my day worse.It had already gotten under my skin, I could feel it tightening around my chest like a rope.Someone didn’t want Sanborn to rise.And that someone had been watching closely.The next morning, I made a list. Not names. Not contacts. Just a single question at the top of the page: Who stands to lose if Sanborn returns?Beneath it, I scribbled what I knew—The project had been shelved under my father’s watch. Rachel’s father was involved too. The original land was purchased, then quietly sold off. Leona mentioned something about nonprofit mergers, but every digital trail stopped cold just after my fifteenth birthday.Too clean.Almost… intentional.Raymond offered to call his legal team. I told him no, at least not yet. This wasn’t about legality, not at the