The internet didn’t wait for facts. It waited for heat.
By noon, the story had split into competing narratives, each packaged for a different kind of appetite.
Theo Reyes Defends Girlfriend From Harassment. Reyes CEO In PR Crisis Over Contract Romance. Vantage Employee Linked to Reyes Scandal—HR Silent.
Mira sat at Theo’s dining table with Priya on one side and Imani on the other, her laptop open to a grid of headlines that made her stomach churn.
Theo paced by the windows, phone to his ear, speaking to someone in a tone Mira hadn’t heard yet—quiet, ruthless, and intimate in its certainty.
Priya slid a document across the table. “Temporary restraining order request. We’re filing today. We also have defamation claims against him, and tortious interference regarding your employment.”
Mira’s throat tightened. “Will a judge even take it seriously?”
Priya’s eyes were sharp. “He created forged documents and threatened distribution. He contacted you repeatedly after being blocked. He escalated after being told to stop. Yes.”
Imani added, “We also have surveillance pulls from the gala venue. We’re identifying who took the coatroom photo.”
Mira swallowed. “It wasn’t him.”
Imani’s expression stayed calm. “It doesn’t matter. If he solicited it or distributed it, he’s involved.”
Theo ended his call and turned.
“What’s the latest with Vantage?” he asked.
Mira’s stomach clenched. “My director hasn’t replied to my message. HR hasn’t scheduled another meeting, but… people are staring. My team is split between supportive and… entertained.”
Theo’s eyes went dark. “I’ll handle Vantage.”
Mira stood too fast. “No. You can’t bully my company into liking me.”
Theo stopped, gaze hard. “I’m not bullying. I’m protecting you.”
Mira’s voice shook. “By making it look like I can’t survive without you?”
The words landed in the room like a slap.
Theo went still. For a moment, Mira saw something raw flicker across his face—hurt, then control snapping back into place.
Priya cleared her throat quietly. “I recommend we separate the approaches. We protect Mira legally and digitally. We let Mira manage her professional standing unless direct interference occurs.”
Theo’s jaw worked, then he nodded once. “Fine.”
Mira exhaled shakily. “Thank you.”
Theo’s gaze stayed on her. “You’re allowed to be angry.”
Mira swallowed. “I’m allowed to be terrified.”
Theo’s expression softened by a degree. “Yes.”
Imani’s phone buzzed. She glanced down, then looked up. “He posted again.”
Mira’s stomach dropped. “What now?”
Imani turned the screen so they could all see.
Ethan had uploaded a “timeline,” complete with cropped screenshots, insinuations, and one new item that made Mira’s blood turn to ice:
A screenshot of a bank transfer template—blank, but with Theo’s name visible at the top—implying payment.
Caption: *Ask her what she’s getting paid. Then ask yourself what that makes her.*
Mira’s hands trembled.
Theo’s face went still in a way that frightened her more than anger.
“That’s fake,” Mira whispered.
Priya’s voice was flat. “Yes. And actionable.”
Mira looked at Theo. “He’s trying to turn me into a slur.”
Theo’s gaze lifted to hers. “He won’t succeed.”
Mira let out a short, bitter laugh. “You can’t stop people from thinking what they want.”
Theo stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Then we give them something they can’t twist.”
Mira’s pulse stuttered. “What does that mean?”
Theo’s eyes held hers. “It means we stop letting the contract be the center of the story.”
Priya watched him carefully. “Theo—”
Theo cut in, calm. “We won’t discuss private terms. We won’t deny documents we don’t owe them. We will say one thing.”
Mira’s throat tightened. “Which is?”
Theo’s hand lifted, fingers brushing the inside of her wrist—an intimate touch that anchored her without claiming her.
“That you are with me,” he said, “because you want to be.”
Mira’s breath caught.
Priya’s gaze sharpened. “Publicly stating that could complicate exit clauses.”
Theo didn’t blink. “Then we rewrite them.”
Mira stared at him. “Theo—this is spiraling.”
Theo’s voice softened, but only for her. “No. This is clarifying.”
Imani’s phone buzzed again, and she looked up with a hard glint in her eyes. “We’ve identified the burner account that first posted the coatroom photo. It’s connected to a device registered to someone in Vantage’s event operations.”
Mira went cold. “Someone at Vantage helped.”
Theo’s jaw tightened. “Names.”
Imani hesitated. “We can provide counsel privately. Publicly, it becomes a different war.”
Mira’s stomach twisted. Her career—her identity—being reduced to collateral.
She turned and walked away from the table, needing air that didn’t taste like legal documents.
Theo followed her into the hallway, quiet footsteps.
“Mira,” he said.
She didn’t turn. “I didn’t ask for this.”
Theo’s voice was low. “I know.”
Mira’s throat tightened until her voice cracked. “I just wanted to leave him. I wanted to keep my job. I wanted to breathe without someone punishing me for it.”
Theo stepped closer. His hand hovered near her waist, not touching until she nodded slightly.
When his fingers settled at her hip, warmth spread through her like a slow exhale.
“I can’t erase what he’s done,” Theo murmured. “But I can make sure he pays for it.”
Mira turned then, eyes burning. “And what do I pay?”
Theo’s gaze held hers. “Nothing. Not if I can help it.”
Mira let out a shaky laugh. “That’s not how your world works. There’s always a price.”
Theo’s mouth tightened. “Yes.”
Mira’s heart kicked. “And what’s the price for staying with you?”
Theo didn’t look away.
“Everything becomes public,” he said quietly. “Everything becomes scrutinized. You lose anonymity. You lose ease. You gain protection, resources, power—”
“And you,” Mira whispered. “What do I gain with you?”
Theo’s expression shifted—something raw beneath the control.
“You gain me,” he said. “If you want that.”
Mira’s breath caught hard.
Theo’s hand slid up her side, stopping at her waist, fingers firm and careful. “I’m not asking you to be brave for cameras. I’m asking you to be honest with me.”
Mira swallowed. “I don’t know if I can love someone in a world like yours.”
Theo’s gaze darkened. “Can you love me in any world?”
The question landed like a door opening.
Mira’s throat tightened. She stepped closer until her hands rested on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath the fabric.
“I’m already in trouble,” she whispered. “With you.”
Theo’s eyes softened for half a heartbeat, then his mouth met hers—slow, deliberate, a kiss that wasn’t a performance and didn’t ask permission from the world.
When they broke apart, Theo rested his forehead against hers.
“I’m not letting you go because a timer says I should,” he murmured.
Mira’s chest ached. “Theo…”
He kissed her again—brief, grounding.
Then Priya’s voice called from the living area, controlled urgency: “Theo. The board session just moved up. They’re convening in two hours.”
Theo’s body went still.
Mira felt it—the next wave.
Theo looked at her, eyes sharp. “You’re coming.”
Mira blinked. “To the board?”
Theo’s mouth tightened. “They’re putting you on trial without your presence. Not happening.”
Mira’s stomach clenched. “Your mother will hate that.”
Theo’s gaze went cold. “Good.”
And Mira realized: Theo didn’t just burn bridges in a press conference.
He was about to burn his mother’s leverage to ash.