“But—”
“He’s right,” I interrupt quietly. Carter turns to me, jaw tight, and I reach for his hand. “This is my career. My reputation. I need to do this on my own.”
“You don’t have to do anything alone.”
“I know. But Mark’s right. If you’re standing beside me, it becomes about us instead of about the truth.” I squeeze his hand. “I need to do this, Carter.”
He’s quiet for a moment, conflict clear on his face. Then he nods slowly. “Okay. But I’m watching from somewhere. Even if it’s just a screen.”
“Deal.”
Mark unbuttons his jacket. “Ralph, get the legal team moving. I want the retraction demand sent within the hour. And I want Jake Martinez fired before lunch.” He looks at me. “Olivia, take the rest of the morning. Get yourself ready. The press conference will be at three o’clock. Can you handle that?”
I straighten my spine. “Yes.”
“Good.” Something like respect crosses his face. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I should have trusted you more. Should have fought harder against the accusations instead of putting you on leave immediately.”
The apology catches me off guard. “You were protecting the organization.”
“I was protecting the wrong thing.” He heads for the door, then pauses. “See you at three, Olivia. And Olivia? Make them eat their words.”
When he’s gone, Ralph starts gathering the documents. “He’s right, you know. You didn’t deserve what happened. And I’m sorry I didn’t push back harder.”
“Everyone was just doing their job.”
“Doesn’t make it right.” He hands me a copy of the documents. “Keep these. You might need them later. And Olivia? You’re going to be brilliant this afternoon. I know it.”
Carter and I leave Ralph’s office in silence. It’s not until we’re in the elevator that he finally speaks.
“You sure about this? Doing the press conference alone?”
“No. But Mark’s right. This needs to be about clearing my name, not about us.” I lean against him. “Besides, I won’t really be alone. You’ll be watching.”
“Damn right I will.” He kisses the top of my head. “And afterward, we’re going out. Celebrating. Making up for the worst twenty-four hours of our lives.”
“Celebrating what?”
“You. The truth. The fact we made it through this shitstorm together.” He tilts my chin up. “And after today, we don’t have to hide anymore.”
The elevator dings, doors opening to the parking garage. As we walk to his truck, my phone starts buzzing. I pull it out, seeing messages flooding in.
My assistant:OMG I just heard! Are you okay? Do you need anything for the press conference?
Maya:GIRL. I JUST SAW. CALL ME IMMEDIATELY.
Derek:Storm told me what happened. You’re a badass. Go get ‘em.
And dozens more. From colleagues, from people I haven’t spoken to in months, from journalists asking for comments.
“It’s already spreading,” I murmur.
“Good.” Carter opens the passenger door for me. “Let them know the truth before the press conference even happens. By the time you get up there, half the work will be done.”
We drive back to my apartment, and the entire way, I try to prepare myself. What I’ll say. How I’ll stand. What expression I’ll wear when they ask questions about Carter, about our relationship, about whether I really did nothing wrong.
Because even with evidence, some people will still doubt. Will still whisper and wonder.
But at least I’ll know the truth. And so will everyone who matters.
