Chapter Twenty-Three: Headlines and Shadows
By mid-morning, the villa was no longer a sanctuary—it felt like a fortress under siege.
Phone lines buzzed nonstop, emails poured in, and the gate outside swarmed with photographers hungry for the next shot of Hollywood's most elusive star and his mysterious bride.
Amara stayed close to the window, peeking through the curtains. The sea of flashing cameras made her stomach twist. "They're everywhere," she murmured, pulling the fabric shut.
Ethan paced the room, his phone pressed to his ear, his voice sharp and controlled. "No, I don't care what angle they're running with. Shut it down. Threaten legal action if you have to." A pause, then his tone dropped lower, colder. "And find out who leaked those photos."
When he hung up, Amara was already hugging her arms around herself. "This is my nightmare. I didn't sign up to have my face splashed across every gossip site."
He looked at her, frustration warring with something softer in his gaze. "You signed up to be my wife, Amara. This is part of it."
Her breath caught. "Your contract wife. Don't twist it."
The reminder hit them both like a blow.
Before either could speak again, the door opened and in swept Cassandra—Ethan's PR manager, impeccably dressed and carrying folders under her arm. Her heels clicked like gunshots against the marble floor.
"Ethan, this is a disaster." She dropped the folders onto the coffee table, tabloids spilling out. Headlines screamed in bold letters: Who is Amara Blake? Secret Wife or Scandalous Affair? Contract Marriage Rumors Spark Frenzy.
Cassandra's eyes flicked over Amara with thinly veiled judgment. "She's not ready for this. She doesn't know the rules."
Amara bristled, her cheeks heating. "I'm standing right here."
"Exactly," Cassandra replied coolly. "And standing there isn't enough. You need media training, control over your narrative, and the ability to play the part without hesitation. Otherwise, the sharks will tear you apart."
Ethan's voice cut through the tension. "That's enough."
But Cassandra only raised a brow at him. "You wanted a contract marriage, Ethan. Now deal with the fallout. She's in it whether you like it or not. And so is your reputation."
Silence pressed heavy between them until Cassandra gathered her things. "Press conference tomorrow. No arguments. If you want to salvage this, you'll stand together and sell the story." She left without waiting for a reply.
Amara sank onto the couch, her head spinning. "A press conference? I can't—Ethan, I'm not built for this."
He crouched in front of her, his hand brushing her knee gently. "You don't have to be built for it. You just have to stand by me."
Her eyes searched his, desperate. "But is this still about the contract—or about us?"
Ethan hesitated, his jaw tightening. "Right now, it has to be about survival."
The words stung, colder than he intended. Amara nodded stiffly, pulling away from his touch. For the first time since stepping into his world, she felt not like a partner—but like a pawn.
Outside, the paparazzi's shutters clicked endlessly, their hunger for scandal louder than the quiet unraveling between them.
And Amara couldn't shake the sinking thought: perhaps the real danger wasn't the headlines at all, but the way her heart kept hoping Ethan meant more than survival.