The calm didn't last, it never did. Morning light filtered through the tall windows of Keigh's apartment, pale and deceptively gentle. Nara woke first, curled against his side, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. For a brief, selfish moment, she let herself believe this could be enough. No titles, no families and no expectations, just this.
Her phone buzzed on the side table, once, twice and then again. She frowned, carefully slipping out of Keigh's arms and reaching for it. The screen lit up instantly. Missed calls, messages, mentions, tags, her name was everywhere.
Her stomach dropped as she opened the first notification, then another and another. Articles, headlines and speculation disguised as praise. The world did not turn on Nara all at once, it leaned in first.
At H&M Events, the weeks following the royal ball felt deceptively calm. Congratulatory emails poured in steadily. Inquiries from new clients arrived with flattering language and carefully polished interest. People who had never returned calls before were suddenly eager to "connect."
On the surface, it was everything she had worked for, but beneath it, something shifted. A profile piece meant to celebrate the success of the royal ball. Her name appeared in bold letters beneath a flattering headline. The tone was warm, admiring even, at first.
Then came the paragraph that made her chest tighten. Despite her evident talent, little is publicly known about Nara's background. With no notable family lineage tied to the elite circles she now moves within, her rise has sparked quiet curiosity.
Quiet. That word followed her all day. She reread the sentence more times than she cared to admit, searching for insult, for accusation. It wasn't overt, that was what made it dangerous. It left room for interpretation.
A radio segment discussed "new faces in old spaces." A columnist mused about how proximity to power often blurred lines between merit and opportunity. Social media did what it always did and filled in gaps with imagination.
And then the picture surfaced. Nara saw it late that evening. It wasn't recent. She recognized the night instantly. The anniversary gala. The memory tightened something in her chest. She hadn't known they were being watched then.
The photo was grainy, taken from a distance. She was unmistakable, her face turned toward the man beside her. Keigh's features were blurred, the angle unkind, but anyone who knew him could recognize the posture, the presence. The intimacy wasn't explicit, that was worse.
Who is she to him?
Why was she there?
Is this the reason the Dynamite–Alaric arrangement fell through?
The anniversary rumors resurfaced like a body pulled from water. Old whispers were dusted off and reframed, now sharper, now pointed.
As the days went by, anonymous "sources" began speaking. They never named the Alarics, they didn't have to. Insiders suggest Keigh Dynamite's refusal of the proposed arrangement stemmed from an undisclosed personal involvement. Claims indicate emotional influence rather than strategic disagreement.
And then the word that followed Nara everywhere after that: Seduced. She read it once, then again. The implication sat heavy and ugly on her skin. She hadn't asked for this, hadn't chased him, hadn't even known who he truly was when she first looked at him without defenses, but none of that mattered now. The narrative was being written without her consent.
Across the city, in a quiet room with drawn curtains, the Alarics watched the reaction carefully.
"Don't push," Mrs. Alaric said coolly, her fingers tapping against her glass. "Let them connect the dots themselves."
Fiona scrolled through her phone, lips pressed tight. "They're already blaming her."
"Good," her mother replied. "A woman without roots is always an easy target."
They never made a statement, never appeared in public. Their silence did the work for them. It suggested dignity, injury, restraint and people filled in the rest.
---
Back at Keigh's residence, the air was tense in a different way. Keigh read everything. Every article, every insinuation and every carefully planted line designed to turn affection into manipulation. He didn't throw his phone, didn't rage. That restraint frightened Nara more than anger would have.
"They're rewriting us," she said quietly, sitting across from him, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
"They're trying," he corrected.
"This isn't just about you anymore," she continued. "They're saying I—" She stopped herself, swallowing hard. "They're saying I used you."
Keigh's eyes darkened. "They're saying what benefits them."
"But people are listening."
He stood and crossed the room, kneeling in front of her so their eyes were level. "Look at me."
She did.
"You didn't seduce me," he said evenly. "You didn't trap me and you dedinitely didn't influence my decisions."
His thumb brushed her knuckles gently, grounding her. "I chose you, every step, every time."
Her breath trembled. "Your father won't see it that way."
"No," he admitted. "He won't."
That was the unspoken weight pressing on both of them. The Dynamite name did not bend easily.
The next morning, the rumors sharpened again. A headline hinted at moral compromise, another questioned professional ethics. The same photo circulated endlessly, cropped, zoomed and dissected.
Nara stopped checking the comments. Hellen did it for her, filtering what mattered from what didn't, but even she couldn't shield her completely.
"They're testing how you react," Hellen said gently. "If you retreat, they'll claim guilt and if you speak, they'll twist it."
"So what do I do?"
Hellen met her gaze steadily. "You keep doing what you've always done. You work and you stay visible. You don't apologize for existing."
That night, Keigh stood alone on his balcony, city lights stretching endlessly before him. He felt it then, the shift. Something unseen tightening around Nara, probing, watching. Not just rumor, intention. He clenched his jaw.
They thought they could scare her into silence, they were wrong and for the first time since the ball, Keigh understood that loving her would not just require devotion, it would require defiance.