Elle's Pov
The noise outside hasn't stopped since morning. Two news vans are packed across the street while a handful of reporters leans on them with their cameras aimed at the orphanage gates like loaded weapons. Inside, the air smells like paint and breakfast. The kids don't understand what's happening, they just know the adults stopped smiling.
I kneel beside Mia, fixing her doll's broken arm. "Don't worry, sunshine. She'll be as good as new."
"You're always fixing things," Mia grins.
"Someone has to," I whisper, my hands won't stop shaking.
I scroll through the headlines, each one a fresh bruise.
WHO IS ELLE MORGAN?
AUTHOR OR ACTRESS OR IMPOSTOR?
THE FIANCÉE WITH NO PAST.
They think it's gossip. But I know it's a hit piece, and she has shown me how far she's willing to go.
I look out the window, the gates are still lined with cameras. Then my phone vibrates. Camila, I'm not in the mood. My phone vibrates again. A blocked call. I hesitate, then answer.
"You shouldn't be calling me," I say before I even hear her voice.
"And yet, here I am," a weary, familiar voice replies.
My chest tightens. "Mother."
"It's spiraling," she says, her voice calm and controlled as ever. "Stay off the news. No interviews. Let it blow over."
I pace the room, nails digging into my palms. "You think I don't know that? We both know who's behind this. Are you going to handle her or should I?"
"Don't create more mess. All you can do now is to keep doing what you've always done," she snaps. "Don't make me regret funding that foundation of yours."
Her words sting. Always her money. Always her strings. "I never asked for it," I say quietly.
"No, but you needed it. And you still do. I'll keep backing whatever reckless thing you chase until you finally come for what's yours."
There's a pause, long enough for the truth to sting.
"Keep your team quiet. Especially... that man you're currently sleeping with. 'Fiancé indeed'," she sneers. "And for God's sake, Seraphina… don't make me clean up another mess again."
"The man I'm sleeping with? Seriously?" I mutter as she hangs up. "Gosh."
My heart pounds, speaking to mother always sends me over the edge. I turn toward the door just as one of the older volunteers rushes in, breathless. "Miss Elle, your fiancé is outside."
I throw my hands in the air. "Of course he is."
The sound of car doors slamming reaches me through the window.
I don't need to look. Damian moves like the world is forced to bend around him. Even with reporters blocking the street, they instinctively part as he approaches, security flanking him in perfect sync. He enters the foyer, and the atmosphere shifts instantly. The volunteers scatter.
"What's going on?" He demands, his voice sharp enough to cut. "Why are you alone? We should be presenting a united front."
"Don't." I snap. "You shouldn't even be here. Why does your uncle have it out for me, Damian?"
"You think this is just about Harrison? You can't just disappear while my name is dragged through every headline!"
"I knew it," I mutter. "Tangling with people like you was a mistake."
"Too late for that," He glances toward the kids' wing. "We need to calm the press before this blows any bigger. We'll use the foundation to shift the narrative. These children bring sympathy."
"Not my babies," I step into his space. "They aren't your PR shield."
"Do you have a better plan?" he asks, his eyes burning into mine.
I say nothing.
"In the absence of one," he says, rolling his eyes, "we stick to mine. My stock is bleeding, Elle. This isn't a negotiation."
"Fine. But we do it my way."
I lead him down the hall to my office and shut the door. "I'll handle the press. But..."
"After this, you're telling me everything," he cuts me off, his voice dropping to a dangerous level. "Seraphina Carrington."
The name hits me like a physical punch. For a moment, the room tilts. I grip the edge of the desk just to stay upright.
"Of course you went digging," I say, my pulse racing.
"I had to know who I'm dealing with."
I let out a bitter laugh. "That's what men like you do. When you want control, you dig until you find a leash."
"Is that what you think this is? Control?"
"I think you're terrified of anything you can't predict," I shoot back. "And now you've realized I don't fit into your perfect little boxes."
He takes a closer step, voice dropping. "Then explain the sealed record. The relocation order, the name change. What were you running from, Seraphina? Is this revenge?"
"I doubt you'd believe the truth if I told you."
"Try me," he says quietly.
Something inside me twists, but I stand firm. I take a slow breath. "You'll get your answers after we fix the chaos your uncle started. Until then, stop interrogating me and follow my lead."
He studies me for a long moment, unreadable, then nods. Just as he's about to speak, his phone buzzes. He looks at it, and the color drains from his face.
"What is it?" I ask.
"An emergency board vote," he says, his voice cracking just enough to show the panic beneath. "Tonight. To remove me."
I freeze. "For what?"
"Harrison must've pushed it through."
He starts pacing, dialing numbers, gnashing his teeth when no one picks up. The unshakable CEO is finally breaking.
"Get me Langford. Now."
A pause.
"What do you mean he's not in? He's never not in."
He hangs up hard, gnashing his teeth.
"So," I say quietly, "this is what Harrison wanted. He's using my past to make you look incompetent. I'm the leverage."
He drops into the chair across from me, elbows resting on his knees. "They think I've been compromised."
"You have," I admit before I can stop myself.
His eyes snap to mine, sharp. "Watch it."
"I'm being honest," I say steadily. "You've built an empire on control. And now the board sees the one thing you can't control, me. That unsettles them."
"You sound like you've handled situations like this before."
I lean in, watching him. "If you want to keep your company, I can help."
He lets out a short, humorless laugh. "You really think I'd take advice from you right now?"
"You don't have a choice. If they vote tonight, you're out. But we can turn it around."
"How?"
"We tell them we're expecting a baby."
The silence in the room is deafening.
"You're joking," he says.
"I'm not. The story will overshadow the scandal. It gives the board a reason to pause."
He stares at me like I've lost my mind. "That's extreme. What happens when people ask questions later?"
"We'll say the pregnancy was miscarried. It's deliberate, Damian. Just like everything else you do. It gets results."
He stands, folding his arms. "And what exactly do you get out of this lie?"
"You finance the full expansion of Little Lights. A new wing, a medical center. My name stays clean. You handle your uncle, I handle the rest."
His jaw flexes. "You're asking me to fake fatherhood and fund your foundation."
"I'm asking you to survive," I say simply.
He studies me for a long moment, like he's torn between admiration and fury. Then, slowly, a faint smile curves his mouth. "You're dangerous."
I shrug. "Takes one to know one."
He adjusts his cufflinks, the cold calm returning to his eyes. "Fine. Let's go make the world believe a lie."