Morning sunlight dripped through the glass walls of my office, shimmering everything it touched — the soft curve of my coffee cup, the silver trim of the frames lining my desk. It was a rare kind of calm, the kind that felt almost cinematic in hindsight — the quiet before a shift you don't see coming.
Pauline had just left a stack of reports from the Island Residence project. I had spent the last few days reworking the logistics, and hadn't seen Kaelen for a few days now. I wondered what he was doing. The memory of his low, sensual laugh lingered in my mind, a warmth I didn't realize I was smiling at until my phone vibrated against the desk.
A single message.
Kaelen: David just named Bella as the project spokesperson. Press conference in 30 minutes. I'll handle it.
I stared at the text, then slowly leaned back in my chair. A soft exhale escaped me — not quite laughter, but close. Of course David would. And of course he'd choose her.
Predictable. Calculated. Pathetic, even.
The door opened without a knock. Pauline stepped in, her face tight. "Miss Sterling, Vancourt Holdings has called a press conference—"
"About Bella being the new 'face' of the Island Residence?" I finished for her, leaning back in my chair. "Yes, I just got the memo from Kaelen too."
Pauline blinked, taken aback by my calm. "Aren't you… concerned? This is a direct provocation."
I smiled faintly, my eyes still on the glowing phone screen. "Concern gives him power. Let's see what he's up to. I could use a good show."
I gestured for her to switch on the wall display. The feed flickered to life, and there it was — the Vancourt crest, gleaming like a crown over David's shoulder as he addressed the sea of cameras.
"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," he began, smiling at the gathered press. "The Island Residence deserves a face that embodies the spirit of legacy, grace, and our shared values. Someone who understands the heart of the Vancourt brand. That's why I'm proud to announce Ms. Bella Smith as the official spokesperson for this project."
A small ripple of applause followed. Then she appeared.
Bella stepped onto the stage in an ivory dress that shimmered under the lights — soft silk cut to perfection, hugging every right line. Her jewelry was understated but deliberate: a single pearl at her throat, coupled with a pink pearl bracelet. She was a picture of grace, meticulously crafted to look like she belonged at Kaelen's side.
"I'm honored," she said, her voice honeyed. "The Island Residence represents a dream — one that's deeply personal. I've always felt the Vancourt legacy as part of my own."Her eyes found Kaelen at the side of the stage. "This feels like coming home."
The cameras followed her gaze. Kaelen, expression schooled into neutrality, stood there — controlled, contained. But I caught the tension in his jaw, the subtle tightening of his hand.
Then came the question that shifted the air.
"Mr. Vancourt," a reporter called out, "why isn't Ms. Sterling — your fiancée and project co-partner — the face of the Island Residence?"
Before Kaelen could even lift the microphone, Bella laughed softly, tilting her head like an actress nailing her cue.
"Oh, everyone knows the alliance with Sterling Group is a strategic partnership. Kaelen and I have always understood what's necessary for business. I fully support him doing what he needs to — and I'll always be proud to stand beside him."
The phrasing was perfect. Ambiguous. Intimate.
A hum spread through the crowd like a spark catching dry grass.
David's eyes gleamed.
"Let's take a photo," Bella said brightly, stepping closer to Kaelen. "For the press."
Kaelen didn't move fast enough. She reached for his hand and pulled him into the spotlight. The photographers surged forward, flashes exploding like fireworks as Kaelen's arm — under her insistence — brushed her waist. A calculated tableau.
Within minutes, social media detonated.
LoveAlwaysWins: "Bella and Kaelen — the chemistry!"
Investor Ally:"She said their engagement is strategic?! That explains everything!"
OldisGold: "They look perfect together — old money elegance!"
I scrolled through the posts, watching the wave rise and crest with detached amusement. They wanted to craft a fantasy. Let them.It was, after all, their stage.
Then my phone buzzed again.
Kaelen: I did not approve this. He pushed it through a procedural loophole. I nearly strangled him mid-speech.
Elara: That would've made an even better headline. 'Vancourt CEO murders brother on live TV.'
Kaelen: Don't tempt me. Also, she grabbed my hand. You saw that, right?
Elara: I did. Very dramatic. Ten out of ten for timing. Minus ten for the floral perfume.
A beat. Then:
Kaelen: It's still on me. I'm burning this suit.
I smiled, the tension unwinding a little.
Elara: Buy a new one. And buy me lunch while you're at it. I think we both deserve something sweet after this little show.
Kaelen: I'll be there in 10. Pick a place. I need to look at you and remember what real affection feels like.
Elara: Let's just meet at La Juvia instead. My driver is still at the office.
Kaelen: Sure, see you soon, love.
I locked my phone, still smiling.
The amusement wasn't cruel — it was sharper than that. Measured. The calm of someone who already knows the next move.
Pauline was still watching me, frowning. "Miss Sterling... You're not… angry?"
I turned to her, meeting her eyes. "Anger wastes energy. They want reaction. Let them chase the echo. We shouldn't get angry at people and things that don't matter."
She exhaled slowly, nodding. "Understood, Ms. Sterling."
I traced a finger over the frozen image of the Vancourt crest on the screen and murmured, mostly to myself, "Let them enjoy the spotlight. It never lasts long."
And with that, I rose from my chair, walking out of my office.
La Juvia is a quaint restaurant, tucked away in a quiet corner of the city - a place that understood discretion the way old money did. The kind with dim lighting and linen so soft it almost absorbed sound.
He was already there when I arrived. No cameras, no press. Just him.
Kaelen looked up from his phone as I approached, and the corner of his mouth lifted — that small, private smile that made everything else in the world momentarily irrelevant. His tie was gone, his sleeves rolled up, the tension of the morning replaced by something quieter. Warmer.
"Miss Sterling," he said, standing to pull out my chair. "You look… calm. Which, frankly, terrifies me."
I laughed softly, sitting down. "Likewise, Mr Vancourt, you're the one who just survived a corporate ambush and still managed to look like you stepped out of an editorial spread. I think I'm allowed to enjoy the calm."
He leaned back, watching me for a moment. "You're not angry." It wasn't a question.
"I'm not," I replied, unfolding my napkin. "I trust you."
Kaelen's smile deepened, though there was something like exhaustion behind it. "You're dangerous when you talk like that."
"Only to people who mistake arrogance for strategy," I said lightly. "Or who grab your hand without consent in front of thirty cameras."
That earned a low laugh — the kind that always started somewhere deep in his chest. "You saw that, didn't you? I almost broke her grip."
"I noticed." I took a sip of my drink, eyes glinting over the rim. "Next time, just step on her foot. Hard."
Kaelen tilted his head, watching me like he couldn't decide whether to laugh or lean closer. "You're enjoying this too much."
"Am I?"
"Yes," he said quietly, voice lowering. "You're calm, beautiful, and you're smiling — which means you're about to destroy someone. I should probably be concerned."
"You should probably eat," I countered softly.
He smiled, and for a while, the world folded into something small and tender. Between the sound of clinking glasses and low jazz, he reached across the table, brushing his thumb against the back of my hand. It was a quiet gesture — not hungry, not desperate — but there was something real in it. The kind of touch that anchored.
"Do you ever get tired of this?" he asked suddenly. "The politics, the games."
I met his gaze. "Sometimes. But I remind myself — it's not forever. People like David and Bella, they burn too bright too fast. We build quietly. We last."
Kaelen didn't say anything for a moment. Then, with a faint sigh, he said, "You make it sound easy."
"It isn't," I said simply. "But it's worth it."
He was about to reply when the air shifted — a familiar perfume, sweet and cloying, cutting through the restaurant's warm stillness.
"Kaelen."
We both turned.
Bella stood at the entrance, perfectly styled, a smile too polished to be anything but deliberate. Her heels clicked against the marble floor like punctuation marks.
"What a coincidence," she said smoothly, approaching the table. Her eyes, cold and triumphant, slid from Kaelen to me. "I hope I'm not interrupting your… commercial discussion."