News had a way of traveling faster than truth.
By the second morning after Veronica's outburst, whispers had turned into murmurs, murmurs into certainty. By noon, blogs and online forums were buzzing with speculation, their headlines crafted with calculated cruelty: Tech Executive in Pregnancy Scandal, Power and Deception at Carter Communications, Behind the Glass Walls: A Perfect Partnership Cracks.
Jane saw none of it at first. She had learned long ago not to begin her mornings with noise. She arrived early, as she always did, her posture composed, her mind focused. But the office felt different. Conversations hushed when she passed. Eyes lingered too long, then darted away.
Frederick's name—once spoken with respect—now carried a different weight.
By afternoon, the damage was undeniable. A scheduled client meeting was postponed. A potential investor requested "clarification." Frederick's public image, carefully built over years of discipline and restraint, had begun to fray.
And with it, Jane felt the tremor of something deeply personal.
She stood in the conference room reviewing a report when her phone vibrated. A message preview lit the screen.
Stephanie.
Jane stared at the name longer than necessary before opening it.
It seems the mighty have fallen, the message read. I always knew your luck would run out. Dating a cheat was inevitable for someone like you.
Jane's jaw tightened.
More messages followed, relentless.
All that pride, all that independence—only to be humiliated like this. I suppose karma has a way of finding everyone.
Jane exhaled slowly, her fingers hovering over the screen. She should have ignored it. She knew better. But anger—sharp and sudden—rose in her chest, fueled not only by Stephanie's cruelty but by her own unspoken doubts.
She typed.
You don't know the truth, Jane replied. And you never did.
Stephanie responded almost immediately.
Oh, but the world knows now. Pregnant mistresses don't lie for nothing. Tell me, Jane—how does it feel to be replaced?
Jane's grip tightened on the phone.
You mistake noise for truth, she wrote back. And scandal for character. Frederick's integrity isn't defined by rumors—or by people who thrive on tearing others down.
The words felt strong, convincing. Almost defiant.
Yet as she sent them, doubt whispered beneath her confidence. Not about Veronica's intentions—but about Frederick's response. His anger. His defensiveness. His choice of words.
Across town, Stephanie sat with Anita and Annabel in the dimly lit living room, her phone still glowing with satisfaction.
"Did she reply?" Anita asked, leaning forward eagerly.
Stephanie smirked. "Of course she did. Still pretending she's untouchable."
Annabel shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe we shouldn't—"
"Oh, don't start," Anita cut in. "After everything she put us through? This is poetic."
Annabel said nothing, but her chest tightened. The office whispers had reached her too. Coworkers speculating. Clients questioning. Frederick's once-solid presence now shadowed by doubt.
And Jane—calm, composed Jane—carrying herself as though nothing could touch her.
"She thinks she's better than all of us," Stephanie continued bitterly. "Now look. Tied to a man who can't keep his word."
Annabel swallowed. "We don't know if it's true."
Stephanie turned sharply. "Are you defending her?"
"No," Annabel said quickly. "I just… I've seen how she handles things. She doesn't fall apart easily."
"That's because she's cold," Anita scoffed. "Not strong. Cold."
Annabel wasn't sure that was true. But she stayed silent.
Back at Carter Communications, Frederick sat in his office staring at his phone, unread messages piling up. PR advisors had called. Lawyers had emailed. The situation demanded control, strategy, restraint.
But what haunted him wasn't the public reaction.
It was Jane's distance.
She had remained professional, composed—but something vital had shifted. She no longer lingered after meetings. Her questions were sharper, more precise. Trust, once effortless between them, now required proof.
He wanted to explain. To clarify. But every attempt felt insufficient against the weight of uncertainty.
Meanwhile, the news reached someone else—someone watching from a distance with quiet satisfaction.
Carrick read the headline twice, then smiled.
"So," he murmured to himself, leaning back in his chair. "The perfect man stumbles."
He had never truly stopped following Jane's life. Not out of obsession, he told himself—but out of interest. She had walked away from him with such certainty, such finality. He had believed she would return one day, humbled by reality.
And now?
Now reality had arrived.
Carrick picked up his phone, scrolling through old photos—Jane smiling, Jane focused, Jane before Frederick. Before power and partnership reshaped her world.
"She'll see," he said softly. "She always does."
Back at home that evening, Jane sat alone in her apartment, city lights casting long shadows across the walls. Her phone buzzed again—another message, another headline shared by someone she barely knew.
She didn't open it.
Instead, she thought of Veronica's voice. Of Frederick's anger. Of the way he had dismissed the situation with words that felt too harsh, too quick.
Jane had built her life on clarity. On truth earned through consistency. Love, to her, was not blind faith—it was informed trust.
And trust, once questioned, demanded answers.
Yet she refused to let Stephanie—or anyone else—define her narrative.
The next morning, Jane arrived earlier than usual. She requested a private meeting with Frederick, her tone calm, her expression unreadable.
The office buzzed outside, but inside the glass-walled room, silence pressed in.
"We need transparency," Jane said evenly. "Not anger. Not denial. Truth."
Frederick nodded, his confidence faltering for the first time. "I know."
And somewhere across the city, Stephanie refreshed her messages, waiting for signs of Jane's collapse.
But none came.
Jane did not retreat. She did not break. Even with doubt stirring quietly within her, she stood firm—challenging rumors with professionalism, meeting scrutiny with composure.
And that, more than anything, unsettled those who wished to see her fall.
Because Jane had learned something long ago:
Scandals fade. Noise dies down. But integrity—real integrity—outlasts them all.
And whether Frederick deserved her trust or not, she would not allow the world—or her past—to dictate her worth.