“I know what they think,” he said, running a hand through his hair.“This is a targeted attack. This is Sebastian’s doing. I’m sure of it.”
“It doesn’t matter who did it!” she cried, the tears finally coming.“The damage is done. My credibility is gone. Everything I’ve worked for… they think you just handed it to me.”
He came around the desk and pulled her into his arms. She stiffened, then collapsed against him, sobbing into his shoulder.“I will fix this,” he murmured into her hair, his voice fierce.“I promise you, I will fix this.”
But as she clung to him, Isla felt a chilling certainty. Some stains, especially in the image-obsessed world of fashion, never truly came out. The leak wasn’t just an attack on her reputation; it was a poison, seeping into the foundation of everything they had built, both professionally and personally. The masterpiece of their relationship now had a ugly, public smear across its center, and she had no idea how to restore it.
Chapter 10:
Damage Control
The storm broke publicly by lunchtime. A notorious media gossip site ran the story with the headline: CHROMA'S CREATIVE DIRECTOR AND JUNIOR EDITOR: A FASHIONABLE AFFAIR OR A CASE OF NEPOTISM? The comment section was a cesspool of vitriol.
Luca’s response was swift and ruthless. He called an emergency all-staff meeting. The air in the conference room was thick enough to choke on. He stood at the front, Isla seated in the front row, her posture rigid.
“I will say this once,” Luca began, his voice cold and clear, devoid of any personal emotion.“What happens in my personal life is my business. But what happens at Chroma is everyone’s business. So let’s be clear.” He picked up a tablet, pulling up the Vanguard spread.“Isla Reid conceived the‘urban architecture’angle for this feature. It won us an industry award.” He swiped to the beauty box proposal.“She conceived this strategy, which the publisher has approved and which is projected to increase our Q4 revenue by fifteen percent.” He looked directly at Sebastian.“These are matters of record. Her ideas stand on their own considerable merit.”
He paused, letting the facts settle.
“The private exchanges that were stolen and disseminated were a criminal violation of privacy. Our IT department is already tracing the source. When we find who is responsible, they will be terminated immediately and we will pursue legalaction.” His gaze swept the room, a silent challenge.“The only unprofessional behaviour here is the act of sabotage against a colleague. Is that understood?”
There were muted nods. It was a masterclass in damage control—defending her professionally while drawing a brutal line in the sand.
But as they left the meeting, Isla felt hollow. He had defended the editor, but he had not defended the woman. He had not said,“I love her, and that’s why I respect her mind.” He had treated their relationship like a inconvenient smear on her professional record, something to be explained away with metrics and awards.
Back in his office, she confronted him.“You made it sound like a business transaction. Like my value is only in my ideas.”
“What did you want me to do, Isla?” he asked, exasperated.“Declare my undying love? That would have only made it worse! I had to re-establish your professional credibility.”
“You had to re-establish your credibility,” she shot back.“You had to prove you weren’t being led around by your… feelings. You were managing a crisis, not defending us.”
“They are the same thing!” he argued, his voice rising.“Defending you is defending us! I will not let some jealous, petty snake destroy what you’ve built here.”
“Maybe it’s already destroyed,” she said quietly, the fight going out of her.“Maybe this is just what it is now. Me, having to be twice as good to be considered half as worthy. And you, having to manage the‘problem’of me.”
She left his office, the chasm between them wider than ever. He had fought the battle with the precision of a general, but in doing so, he had made her feel like just another piece of contested territory. The damage was controlled, but the wound was deep, and she wasn't sure their relationship would survive the scar.
Chapter 11:
We Need to Talk
The days that followed were a study in strained politeness. Luca had been true to his word—the IT department, under his relentless pressure, had traced the leak to a proxy server linked to Sebastian Croft. His termination was swift, quiet, and brutal. The immediate threat was neutralized, but the poison had already spread through the office's bloodstream.
Isla and Luca moved around each other with the careful, brittle grace of bomb disposal experts. They discussed layouts, approved copy, and attended meetings, their interactions flawless and utterly devoid of the easy warmth that had once defined them. The late-night coffees, the rooftop confessions, the stolen kisses in the fashion closet—it all felt like a dream from another life.
One evening, a week after Sebastian’s departure, Isla was the last one in the office again. The silence felt different now—not peaceful, but heavy with unsaid things. She was gathering her things when Luca emerged from his office. He looked exhausted, the victory over Sebastian seeming to have cost him more than it had gained.
“Isla,” he said, his voice rough.“Can we… can we please talk?”
She nodded, her throat tight. They didn’t go to the roof. They went to a small, quiet wine bar down a cobbled side street, a place far from the prying eyes of the industry.
They sat in a corner booth, a glass of red wine untouched between them. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.
“I can feel you pulling away,” Luca finally said, his gaze fixed on the candle flickering in its glass jar.“And I don’t know how to stop it.”
Isla took a shaky breath.“You were right, you know. What you said in your office. Defending me professionally was the only thing you could do. It was the smart play.”
“But it wasn’t the right one,” he interjected, his eyes meeting hers, full of a raw, pained honesty.“I was so focused on winning the battle, on proving everyone wrong, that I forgot I was supposed to be fighting for us. I made you feel like a problem to be managed. And I am so, so sorry.”
