The morning sun was not gentle.
It spilled across the penthouse in streaks of burnt gold, illuminating every untouched surface. Clara stood barefoot in the kitchen, staring at the television screen mounted on the far wall.
Her tea had gone cold.
"BLACKWELL CEO IN TURMOIL: Wife at the Center of Family Feud?"
The headline scrolled across the screen, bold and unforgiving. A photo of her; walking out of the gala beside Julian filled the frame. She looked too composed. Too perfect. Like a prop in someone else's drama.
The anchor's voice cut in: "This morning, anonymous board sources have confirmed that Julian Blackwell may be facing an internal challenge. The emergence of his sudden marriage and rumors of an heir have added fuel to the speculation. Who is Clara Wynter, and why does she matter now?"
Clara muted the volume before she could hear more.
Behind her, footsteps approached. Julian, in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled, his hair still damp from the shower, stopped just short of her.
He saw the screen. He didn't flinch.
"Did you expect it?" Clara asked softly.
"I did," he replied. "Just not this fast."
He crossed the room and turned off the television. "Marcus is pushing the board to vote on a new oversight clause today. He'll use the media storm to make it look like I've become a liability."
"And me?" she asked. "What will they say I am?"
Julian turned to face her fully. "A distraction. A threat to the brand. Proof that I've 'lost focus.'"
Clara wrapped her fingers around the edge of the counter. "They don't even know me."
"They don't care."
His voice was steel, but underneath it she could hear something else. Regret. Helplessness.
Clara looked down at her hands. "I didn't sign up to be used against you."
Julian stepped closer. "You're not."
"Then why does it feel like I'm the weakest point they're all pressing into?"
A pause.
Julian's hand came to rest gently on her back, anchoring her.
"Because they know you're the part of me I can't bear to lose."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was brimming with things unsaid.
Finally, she looked up. "Do I come to the office with you?"
"No," Julian said. "Not today."
"I can handle"
"You shouldn't have to," he said. "This isn't your battle."
Clara's eyes didn't waver. "If I'm your wife, then I get to decide what I can stand beside you for."
His shoulders tensed. Then relaxed.
Julian gave a slow nod. "Then come. But be prepared. Marcus plays dirty. And Vivienne..."
Clara raised an eyebrow. "Is still obsessed with winning."
Julian's lips twitched slightly. "You learn fast."
She set the cold tea down. "I had no choice."
He held her gaze for a beat longer before stepping back. "Then let's remind them that the headlines don't know a damn thing about us."
As they left the apartment together, hand in hand, a new war was waiting.
And Clara Wynter was done being a silent name in someone else's story.
The silence after the article dropped was a vacuum.
Clara stood frozen in the middle of the study, the tablet still glowing faintly on the desk behind her. Her heart was thudding in her ears, louder than the air conditioning, louder than the hush of the curtains shifting against the windows.
Julian entered the room a beat later, his expression unreadable, his movements careful. The click of the door closing sounded final, but it didn't snap her out of her trance.
He watched her, waiting for her to speak.
She didn't.
So he did.
"I pulled the article from the top three platforms. Cease and desist letters have been sent."
Clara slowly turned to face him. "Why?"
His voice was quiet. "Because they printed lies."
"But I'm not the one who asked for that."
Julian didn't flinch. "No. I am."
Her arms crossed. "You can't keep taking over every time something goes wrong."
"I wasn't taking over. I was protecting you."
"But that's not what I asked for. I'm not asking to be protected like a fragile thing. I'm asking to be respected."
His eyes flickered. "Is that what you think this is about? That I don't respect you?"
"I think you respect me on paper. You like the idea of me. You like that I make things quieter in your head. But when it gets loud out here, you step in and shut everything down without asking me what I want."
Julian moved closer. Not fast. Just enough to close the distance between the storm in her voice and the guilt in his eyes.
"You're right."
Clara didn't expect that.
He went on. "I've spent most of my life managing disasters before they start. Controlling outcomes. Cleaning messes before they spill. And I thought I was doing the same for you. But you're not a crisis to be managed."
She exhaled slowly, the anger in her shoulders softening.
"Then stop treating me like one."
He nodded once. "I will. But you need to know something else."
She tilted her head.
"Marcus is pushing for a board vote tomorrow morning. He wants to remove me."
Clara blinked. "Because of me?"
"Because I made the mistake of hiding you. Because I made decisions that looked like weakness. Because he thinks love is a liability."
Her voice cracked. "Is it?"
Julian stepped forward again. "If it is, then I'm guilty of it. Fully."
There was a moment where neither of them moved.
Then he added, "I want you there tomorrow."
Her brows rose. "In the boardroom?"
"Yes. Not because I need to parade you like some trophy. But because you've stood beside me through the quiet storms. You should be there for this one."
She stared at him. "What if they come for me next?"
"I'll be right there."
"And if we lose?"
He didn't blink. "Then I lose with you. Not without you."
Clara moved first, walking toward him until there was barely space between them. Her hands touched his chest lightly, feeling the tension in the muscles beneath.
"I never asked to be anyone's strength," she whispered. "But I think I might want to be yours."
Julian looked down at her, and for once, there was no armor in his expression. No mask. Just a man standing on the edge of something terrifying and beautiful.
"You already are," he said.
She leaned in, resting her forehead against his.
They didn't kiss.
They didn't need to.
The closeness said more than words.
And outside, the city lights flickered like a warning. Tomorrow would be war. But tonight, they stood together.
Unshaken.