Suba sat on the edge of the bed, the glow of her laptop screen reflecting in her tired eyes. Rathan's angry words echoed in the silence of the room, but she wasn't crying anymore. She was a writer; she knew that every protagonist hit a low point before their grand comeback.
"If someone is using my life as a script, they've picked the wrong author to mess with," she whispered to the empty room.
She picked up her phone and analyzed the mysterious message again. The sender knew her WebNovel titles. They knew her rhythm. It wasn't just a business rival of Rathan; it was someone who had been watching her.
Suddenly, the door swung open. Rathan walked in, his tie loosened, looking exhausted. "My legal team is working to take down those photos," he said, not looking at her. "But the damage is done. My board of directors is questioning my judgment. This 'contract' was supposed to stabilize my image, not destroy it."
Suba stood up. "Rathan, look at me."
He turned, surprised by the calmness in her voice.
"The photo was taken three years ago at my cousin's wedding. That man is my childhood friend who moved to London. Someone cropped the photo and edited the background to make it look like last week. I can prove it."
Rathan scoffed. "How? The internet doesn't care about the truth; it cares about the scandal."
"I have the original digital file on my old hard drive at my home," Suba said firmly. "And I have something else. The person who sent me that threatening message used a specific phrase—'Shadow Angel'. Only my dedicated readers or someone close to my writing circle would use that."
Rathan's eyes narrowed. "What are you suggesting?"
"I'm suggesting that the leak didn't come from your office. It came from someone who knows me. Someone who wants to see me fail just as much as they want to see you fall."
For the first time, Rathan actually looked at her—not as a contract, but as a partner. "What do you need?"
"A ride to my old house and two hours of your time," Suba replied.
They left the mansion under the cover of darkness. As Rathan drove through the quiet streets of the city, the tension between them shifted. It wasn't the fake closeness of the press meet; it was a shared mission.
"Why didn't you run away?" Rathan asked suddenly. "You have the money from the contract. You could have disappeared when the scandal hit."
Suba looked out the window. "I don't leave my stories unfinished, Rathan. And I don't let anyone else write my ending."
They reached her modest apartment. Suba quickly found the old hard drive and pulled up the original photo. It was clear—a family gathering, with children playing in the background. The 'scandalous' photo was a cheap manipulation.
"Now," Suba said, her fingers flying across the keyboard. "We don't just send this to the press. We play their game."
She logged into her WebNovel account and posted a special announcement titled 'The Real Shadow'. In it, she didn't just defend herself; she invited the 'anonymous' blackmailer to a live stream the next morning.
Rathan watched her, mesmerized by her confidence. "You're baiting them."
"I'm giving them the spotlight they crave," Suba smiled, but her eyes were cold. "And when they step into it, we'll see who's really hiding in the shadows."
As they drove back, Rathan reached out and briefly touched her hand. "I'm sorry, Suba. For not believing you."
Suba didn't pull away. "The contract says we're a team, Rathan. Let's start acting like one."