Ivy woke to the sound of her phone buzzing incessantly on the nightstand. Her eyes barely opened before she noticed the notifications piling up.
"Exclusive: Mrs. Cross linked to confidential Cross Foundation leaks."
"Scandal alert: Mrs. Cross allegedly influences Mr. Cross's board decisions."
"Is Ivy Cross playing a dangerous game behind the scenes?"
Her stomach dropped. This wasn't just gossip. This was a direct attack on her reputation—designed to destabilize her and, indirectly, Lucian.
Clara appeared almost immediately, her expression tighter than Ivy had ever seen. "We need to go to Mr. Cross. Now. This has escalated beyond a simple scandal. He'll want damage control."
Ivy's heart pounded. She had survived public scrutiny before, but this was different. This was personal, targeted, and sophisticated.
---
Lucian's office was stark and imposing, the cityscape behind him a blur of lights and shadows. He didn't rise as she entered—just stared at the screen in front of him.
"Do you see this?" His voice was low, dangerous, ice under velvet. He gestured at the tablet filled with screenshots, articles, and social media posts.
"Yes," Ivy said, trying to steady her voice. "It's… bad. But I can—"
"Can?" he interrupted sharply, spinning around so fast it made her flinch. "Can you? Do you even realize what's at stake? This isn't just your image—it's my empire. Every whisper, every rumor can destabilize everything I've built."
Ivy felt the familiar mix of fear and defiance. "Then let me help fix it," she said. "Let me handle the narrative. I've learned how to speak under pressure. I can—"
"You will follow my plan," he snapped, cutting her off. "You're not just surviving for yourself anymore. This is my world. Every step you take must align with my control."
Her fists clenched, but she forced herself to stay calm. She had survived his dominance before. She could do it again.
"I understand," she said quietly, though her mind raced with possibilities. But I'll find my way through this too.
---
Clara pulled her aside, whispering a rapid-fire strategy. Ivy was to attend a private press conference, issued to quell the rumors, and answer questions directly. She would speak carefully but convincingly, controlling her image while supporting Lucian's empire.
Ivy's hands shook as she applied her makeup and adjusted her gown—a subtle emerald silk dress meant to convey both elegance and authority. Tonight, she would not only survive—she would assert herself.
The press conference room was sterile, full of cameras and microphones. Reporters whispered and shifted as she and Lucian entered, their presence commanding immediate attention.
Lucian's voice, calm but dangerous, filled the room. "This is my wife, Ivy Cross. She will address the recent rumors directly."
Ivy stepped forward, chest tight but gaze steady. Every eye in the room was on her.
---
The lead journalist didn't waste time. "Mrs. Cross, there are claims circulating that you have undue influence over Mr. Cross's board decisions. Can you comment?"
Ivy inhaled deeply. She could falter here—or she could assert control.
"I am committed to supporting Mr. Cross," she began, her voice steady and clear. "But I do not interfere with the foundation's decisions. The claims circulating are unfounded, and I will not allow baseless speculation to undermine our work."
A murmur ran through the room. Some reporters looked taken aback; others scribbled notes furiously.
Another journalist pressed, sharper this time: "Yet some believe you may be strategically guiding decisions behind the scenes. How do you respond to accusations that you are manipulative?"
Ivy's pulse quickened. But she stood her ground. "I act with integrity and purpose, not manipulation. If my involvement is questioned, I will always respond with transparency and accountability. That is how I operate."
Lucian's eyes met hers across the room. A faint nod of acknowledgment. Well done, his gaze seemed to say.
---
After the press conference, Lucian led Ivy back to the penthouse in silence. His hand brushed hers briefly—not warmth, not affection, but a reminder of the stakes.
"You performed well," he said quietly once the doors closed behind them. "But do not mistake this as approval. You are walking a razor's edge. One misstep, one miscalculated word, and the world—or I—will not forgive."
Ivy met his gaze steadily. "I understand the stakes. But I can handle this. I'm not just surviving—I'm learning to fight."
His lips curved faintly, almost imperceptibly. "Good. Because I will test you. Often. And you will need to be ready."
Her chest tightened with adrenaline. He's not just testing me… he's pushing me to grow.
---
Later, alone in her room, Ivy scrolled through the media coverage. Most headlines had been softened by her performance at the press conference, but subtle undertones remained—skepticism, whispers of scandal, and even admiration from some corners.
She realized something vital: this world didn't fear weakness—it respected power. And tonight, she had glimpsed her own potential.
Her reflection in the mirror stared back—calm, determined, and stronger than the nervous woman who had arrived at the Cross penthouse only a week ago.
She whispered to herself: I can survive this. I can master this. And I can make it my own.
---
As Ivy looked out over the city, her phone buzzed again. An anonymous tip had arrived, revealing financial irregularities in one of Lucian's most sensitive deals—information that could destabilize his empire if leaked.
Ivy's pulse quickened. This was bigger than anything she had faced. And suddenly, she realized: her fight wasn't just for survival—it was a test of strategy, cunning, and courage.
The game had grown exponentially more dangerous.
And Lucian? He would expect nothing less than perfection.
But Ivy had begun to understand the rules—and she intended to play.