Chapter Twenty-Four: On Display
The hotel ballroom buzzed with the electricity of a hundred flashing cameras. Reporters crowded the front rows, their pens poised like weapons, their voices rising in impatient murmurs.
Amara sat beside Ethan on the stage, her palms damp against her skirt. The blinding lights made her feel exposed, every glance dissected, every breath amplified.
Ethan leaned slightly toward her, his voice low enough only she could hear. "Stay calm. Follow my lead."
She nodded, though her heart thundered like it wanted to escape her chest.
Cassandra stepped to the podium, sleek and confident. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. Mr. Ethan Blackwood and his wife, Amara Blake, will now take your questions."
Chaos erupted instantly—reporters shouting over one another. Cassandra pointed to the first raised hand.
"Ethan, why the secrecy? Why didn't you announce your marriage sooner?"
Ethan's smile was smooth, his tone steady. "I value privacy. Amara and I wanted something real before we shared it with the world."
A murmur rippled through the crowd—believable, but skeptical.
Another question flew. "Amara, were you aware of Ethan's global fanbase? Some are saying you're in this for the fame and fortune. How do you respond?"
Her throat tightened. She forced a smile, though her fingers curled tightly in her lap. "I didn't fall in love with the movie star. I fell in love with the man. Fame and fortune were never part of the equation."
Ethan glanced at her, surprise flickering in his eyes at her answer.
The questions grew sharper.
"Rumors say this marriage is a contract—arranged for convenience. Care to comment?"
For a moment, Amara froze. The word contract hung in the air like poison.
Ethan's jaw tightened. He leaned forward, his voice cool but firm. "Rumors are exactly that—rumors. My marriage to Amara is real. We're not here to prove ourselves to strangers who thrive on speculation."
Cameras clicked furiously, capturing every angle of his conviction.
But the reporters pressed harder. "If it's real, why haven't there been public appearances together before now? Why the sudden kiss at the gala?"
Amara's pulse raced. She opened her mouth, but Ethan's hand slid over hers beneath the table—a silent anchor.
"Because," he said smoothly, looking directly into the cameras, "sometimes you guard the things you love most. Not everything has to be paraded for the world."
The words rang bold and intimate, but Amara's heart twisted. Was it just another performance—or the truth slipping out?
The barrage continued until Cassandra finally cut it off. "That's all the questions for today. Thank you."
Security guided them off the stage, flashes still exploding behind them.
Back in the waiting room, Amara sagged into a chair, exhaustion washing over her. "I can't breathe out there. Every word feels like a trap."
Ethan removed his jacket, his composure cracking just enough to show strain. "You did well. Better than I expected."
She let out a shaky laugh. "That's becoming your favorite compliment."
His lips twitched, but then his expression sobered. "They won't stop, Amara. Every smile, every slip, every shadow—they'll dissect it. If you're going to stay in this with me, you have to decide if you can survive it."
Her eyes lifted to his, something fierce igniting in her chest despite the fear. "Maybe the real question is whether we can survive it—together."
For a fleeting second, Ethan looked like he wanted to say yes. But then the mask slipped back on, and he simply nodded.
The war with the world had begun—and their hearts were caught in the crossfire.