I saw Damon answering the media about some business. He too looked at me and stretched out his arm, gesturing me to come.
I went to him and held his hand. We both stood close, letting the media take pictures. This was my first time in public with him, standing in front of the media.
Damon escorted me to the stage and we sat in front of the reporters.
Alex began,
"Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for accepting to come here. As you all know, we are here today to clarify the misunderstanding about NK Group of Industries' CEO, Mr. Damon Roy, and his beloved wife, Mrs. Emily Roy."
I heard loud gasps from the reporters when they heard Alex announce me as his "beloved wife." He continued,
"You can ask your concerns regarding the picture in the news article that the media released not long ago."
The reporters started questioning all at once, scaring me. Seeing my reaction, Damon held my hand, which was resting on my knee, to keep me calm.
Damon spoke firmly,
"Ahhh… I'll clarify all your doubts, but can you please keep it low? Or one by one? Because you're scaring my wife."
He looked at me with concern, and I smiled weakly. The reporters quieted down and started asking in turn.
Reporter: "Your secretary introduced that lady as Mrs. Roy. When did you get married? There was no news or update about your marriage!"
Damon: "If she's married to me, she should be introduced as Mrs. Roy. And as for when we got married? Five days ago—yes, on the day of our company's founding. That morning, in the presence of our families, we were married."
Reporter: "If you really got married, then why wasn't there any news?"
Damonchuckled: "I suppose you didn't give us enough time for that."
Reporter: "We want proof."
Damon: "Proof? Proof of what?"
Reporter: "Proof of your marriage. In case you're lying."
I looked at Damon nervously, wondering how he could prove this. He gestured to Alex, and suddenly, on the projector beside the reporters, our marriage papers were displayed—with our signatures and the date of the company's founding day.
I widened my eyes. How powerful were these people, to even change dates on documents?
The reporters still looked skeptical.
Reporter: "Can you explain that picture?"
Damon: "Explain? What do you mean by explaining?"
I saw Damon's expression change—this was going too far. I didn't want to be here anymore.
Reporter: "I mean… there were thousands of employees at the party. How could you do that in a public place?"
Damon: "As you're referring to 'doing that'—we didn't do anything. We just kissed. But from that angle, the picture looks like something else. She was drunk, celebrating our marriage day by drinking alone. I already told her not to, but she was so happy that she didn't listen. What would you do if your wife was drunk? You'd take her home, right? That's what I tried to do. But we had no idea that just one kiss would create such a mess. After that, she lost consciousness."
A video then played—camera footage of the room, showing Damon talking to his bodyguard, a waiter arriving with soup, and then my colleague helping me leave.
Reporter: "If that lady is really your wife, then why would she attempt suicide?"
I clenched the mic in frustration.
"I think most of you here are married, right?"
They exchanged looks, surprised that I had spoken out.
I continued, my voice shaking but steady enough,
"How would your wife feel if her personal matters were exposed in such a lame way, in front of the public? Do you think she would enjoy that kind of attention?"
Everyone fell silent, giving me no answer.
"Even though he's a CEO, he too has a personal life," I added softly.
The words slipped out without planning, and I instantly worried—had I just ruined everything? I turned to Damon. He was staring down at the mic in his hands. My heart sank, wondering what he would do once we got home.
A reporter broke the silence.
Reporter: "Is this marriage arranged by your parents, or love marriage?"
Damon looked at me and smiled before answering,
"We loved each other for three years. A year ago, she joined my company to understand my work, so she could help me in the future if needed. We got approval from both families and got married."
Reporter: "Can we have a look at a family picture to help clear the misunderstanding in the news?"
My chest tightened. I remembered the day I signed that marriage contract. That horrible day. Our careful drama was about to collapse—because we didn't have any happy family pictures.
Damon: "Yeah, sure."
I froze. Yeah sure? What did he mean?
He looked at Alex, who nodded.
Damon: "But I want to ask one thing."
The reporters waited.
Damon: "If I show you the picture, you'll believe we're married. But… does any of you have an answer for how much my wife suffered because of what you people wrote in that article?"
Oh my god. Now he was even using my suicide attempt to save his reputation.
Silence.
Then, a picture appeared on the projector. I froze. It was a Photoshopped family picture—his family and mine together. It looked so real that even I might have believed it, had I not been part of the lie.
The hall went tense as Henry Roy himself entered, flanked by lawyers and bodyguards. He walked straight to the stage, took the mic, and announced,
"We are hosting a party for my son and daughter-in-law tomorrow night. I invite you all to join and bless them for a happy and prosperous life."
The tension skyrocketed. Everyone looked uneasy—except Damon and his people.
His family knew about the marriage? They accepted it? No objections? My mind spun with questions.
Henry Roy added firmly,
"And one more thing. I'm going to take action against those who caused trouble for my daughter-in-law and my company's reputation—through law and order."
He handed the mic to his lawyer, then gestured us to follow. Damon held my hand and we followed him to the parking lot.
Henry Roy turned to us.
"I'll take care of everything from here. You both go and get some rest."
Damon nodded, and I stood staring. Damon looked exactly like his father, those piercing blue eyes clearly inherited.
Henry boarded his car and drove away.
Damon opened the car door for me, watching as I stared at Henry's disappearing car. We boarded, and the engine roared to life.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
Damon looked at me. "Why?"
"I didn't mean to say all that. I thought I ruined everything."
He shook his head. "No. You have every right to say it."
I blinked in surprise. I had expected blame, but instead, he accepted it.
"One more thing," I said nervously.
"What is it?" he asked, sounding disinterested.
"You promised me… about Noah. You said you'll tell him the truth."
He nodded. Just like that. No details.
"When? When will you tell him?" I pressed.
He looked at me lazily. "I'll."
"But—"
"Shhh." He hushed me, pressing his finger against my lips.
We reached home. I thought he would take me to Noah. But instead, he grabbed my hand and led me to the basement.
I froze.
Noah was there—held hostage.
I turned to Damon, horrified. "How could you?"
I ran to Noah, checking if he was okay, but he remained silent, which only made me panic more.
"Noah, are you okay?" I asked, breaking the silence. He avoided my gaze, uninterested in talking to me.
Then Damon spoke,
"I'm sorry for holding you here. But I had to, because of the media. And what I told you that day—it was all a lie. I just wanted answers from her, so I had to do that."
Noah stood still, listening, while I waited for his reaction.
Finally, Noah smirked.
"Listen, Mr. Roy. I know Emily is sooo good and sexy in bed, but I didn't know she was capable of persuading you in just two nights."
His words pierced me like a knife. My breath caught, tears welling up. Disgust, shock, and heartbreak all at once.
Before I could speak, Damon's fist landed on Noah's face, making me jump. He didn't stop there—he lunged forward, throwing punches and kicking Noah mercilessly.
I had never seen Damon like this. He looked like a beast unleashed.
"Damon! Damon, stop! Please!" I sobbed, grabbing his arm. He froze, his eyes full of disappointment when they met mine.
Through tears, I whispered,
"Please stop… Please take me out of here…"
He grabbed my hand, his muscles tense.
For the last time, I looked at Noah, who stared back at me, and choked out between sobs,
"Even though we were married for two days… he didn't touch me… like you said."