The Grand Mansion was unusually quiet as the clock struck 10:00 AM. In the study room, Suba adjusted the camera of her laptop. Beside her, Rathan sat in the shadows, out of the camera's view but close enough to feel the tension radiating from her.
"Are you sure about this, Suba?" Rathan's voice was low. "Once you go live, there's no turning back. If this person doesn't show up, we look like fools."
Suba checked her WebNovel dashboard. Over fifty thousand readers were waiting for her 'Special Announcement' stream. "They will show up, Rathan. An egoist can never resist a stage where they think they've won. They want to see me crawl. Instead, I'm going to show them the mirror."
She clicked 'Go Live.'
"Hello everyone," Suba started, her voice steady. "I know many of you are here because of the scandal involving my marriage to Rathan. People say my life is a mystery, a script I've written. Today, I'm going to reveal the author of that script. And it's not me."
The comment section exploded. Thousands of messages per second scrolled past. Suddenly, a verified account with a mysterious handle commented: "Still acting, Suba? Show the world who you really are."
Suba smiled—a cold, calculated smile. "Welcome to the stream. I knew you couldn't stay away. You sent me a message saying you'd use me to destroy Rathan. But you made one mistake. You used a very specific metaphor from my first unpublished draft, a draft I only shared with one person ten years ago."
Rathan leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.
Suba continued, "You edited those photos using a software that leaves a digital watermark. My tech team—" she glanced at Rathan's experts in the next room, "—traced that watermark back to a private server in the city. A server registered to The Apex Group."
The silence in the room was deafening. The Apex Group was Rathan's biggest rival, but the person running their PR was someone Suba knew intimately.
"Vicky," Suba said clearly into the camera. "My former writing mentor. The man who told me I'd never make it as an author. You didn't just want to destroy Rathan's reputation; you wanted to steal my story because your own career is dying."
The mysterious commenter went silent.
"I have the original photos, the IP logs of your threats, and the witness testimony from the editor you hired," Suba said, showing the documents to the camera. "This isn't a mystery novel, Vicky. This is a police report."
Rathan stood up and stepped into the light. The sight of the powerful tycoon standing protectively behind Suba sent the viewers into a frenzy.
"The games are over," Rathan said, his voice booming. "Every news outlet that carried those fake photos will receive a legal notice within the hour. And as for you, Vicky—my security team is already outside your office."
Suba ended the stream. She let out a long breath she didn't know she was holding. Her hands were shaking. Suddenly, she felt a large, warm hand cover hers.
"You did it," Rathan said. There was no coldness in his voice now. Only genuine awe. "I've dealt with corporate sharks for years, but I've never seen anyone handle a hit-job with such grace."
Suba looked up at him. For the first time, she didn't see the 'Contract Husband.' She saw a man who was truly looking at her. "I told you, Rathan. I don't let anyone else write my ending."
Rathan didn't pull his hand away. "Maybe it's not an ending. Maybe it's just the middle of the book."
As the sun set over the mansion, Suba opened her laptop one last time for the day. Her views had crossed 100,000. But for the first time, the numbers didn't matter as much as the man standing by the window, watching over her.