The morning after the Vale dinner, Maya woke to the insistent buzz of her phone. The sunlight filtering through Adrian's curtains painted soft gold over the sheets, but peace was already slipping away.
She reached for her phone, blinking at the flood of notifications. Dozens of missed calls. A torrent of messages. And then the headlines—blaring across every screen, ruthless in their scrutiny.
Vale Heir's Mystery Woman Revealed.
Bookstore Girl Shakes the Vale Legacy.
Who is Maya Blake, and is she worth the fortune she's about to inherit?
Her stomach dropped.
Adrian stirred beside her, his arm tightening around her waist. "Ignore it," he murmured, voice rough from sleep. "They'll run out of steam soon enough."
But Maya couldn't ignore it. The words carved into her chest like knives. She had always known Adrian's world came with eyes everywhere, but seeing her name plastered across glossy feeds and tabloids felt suffocating.
"They know about my bookstore," she whispered. "They even found pictures of me at the gala. They're digging."
Adrian pushed up onto his elbow, his blue eyes sharp now, protective. "Then let them dig. You've done nothing wrong. You don't owe them an explanation."
But she saw it in his face—the worry he tried to mask.
Later that morning, when they stepped outside his penthouse, the reality hit harder. Cameras flashed in a frenzy. Reporters shouted questions from the sidewalk barricades, their voices overlapping.
"Maya, how long have you been with Adrian Vale?"
"Are you after his money?"
"Do you think you can handle the pressure of this family?"
Her hand clenched tighter in Adrian's, nails pressing into his skin. He shielded her with his body as they slid into the waiting car, but the swarm of voices lingered, echoing in her ears long after the door shut.
Inside the car, silence wrapped around them.
Maya stared out the tinted window, her throat tight. "Is this what life with you will always be like?"
Adrian's hand found hers, steady, grounding. "It won't always be like this. They're loud because it's new. Once they realize you're not going anywhere, they'll move on."
But would they?
Her phone buzzed again. This time, it was a message from her bookstore manager: Maya, reporters are here. They're asking the customers questions. Some people are leaving. What should we do?
Her heart clenched. The bookstore wasn't just her business—it was her sanctuary. And now, it was collateral damage.
"Adrian…" Her voice cracked. "They're hounding the store. It's not just about me anymore—it's hurting people I care about."
He frowned, jaw tight. "I'll handle it. I'll make some calls—"
"No," she interrupted sharply, then softened. "If you get involved, it'll only confirm their suspicions that I'm just some project of yours. This is my place, my life. I need to deal with it."
Adrian studied her, conflicted. Finally, he nodded. "Then I'll stand beside you when you do."
By the time they arrived at the bookstore, a small crowd had gathered. Cameras, flashing lights, the same hungry questions. But this time, Maya didn't flinch. She straightened her shoulders, pushed past the chaos, and unlocked the door with steady hands.
Inside, the familiar scent of paper and ink wrapped around her. Her employees looked anxious, customers whispering in corners. But when Maya lifted her chin, speaking with calm conviction, the noise outside dimmed in her mind.
"This is still the same store it was yesterday," she told her staff. "We're not going to let them change that."
Adrian lingered at the entrance, his presence a silent shield. His gaze swept the shop like he was memorizing every detail of her world. And for the first time that day, Maya felt anchored.
But the outside world was relentless. That evening, a news panel dissected her life as though she were a commodity.
"She's charming, yes, but clearly unprepared for the pressure of high society," one commentator said.
"She'll either adapt quickly, or she'll collapse under the weight," another replied.
Maya watched it on the muted television in her apartment, arms wrapped around herself. Adrian muted it further with the press of a button, crossing the room to kneel before her.
"Don't let them define you," he said, eyes burning into hers. "You're not their story to write."
Her throat tightened. "But what if I can't survive this? What if I'm not strong enough?"
Adrian cupped her face, his forehead pressing against hers. "Then I'll carry the weight with you. Always."
The sincerity in his voice broke something open inside her, tears spilling hot down her cheeks. She clung to him, burying her face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne.
For a long moment, the world outside didn't matter. It was just the two of them, fragile but unyielding.
Still, when she closed her eyes that night, the headlines haunted her. The whispers clung like shadows. And somewhere deep in her chest, a fear stirred—the fear that love might not be enough against the storm of a legacy determined to consume them both.