And she is. Standing beside Mark at that podium, spine straight, chin up, looking every inch the professional I know her to be. The woman who walked into a police station at four in the morning to bail me out. The woman who coached me through press conferences and charity events and every PR disaster the team threw at her.
The woman I love.
Mark finishes reading the statement, and the room erupts with questions. Olivia steps up to the microphone, and my heart hammers.
“I’ll take your questions now,” she says, and her voice doesn’t waver.
A reporter in the front row jumps in first. “Ms. Rivers, how do you respond to the accusations you manipulated Carter Storm?”
“I didn’t manipulate anyone.” Her voice is clear, steady. “Carter and I developed feelings for each other over time while working together. It wasn’t planned, orchestrated, or calculated. It just happened. And yes, we should have disclosed ourrelationship to the organization sooner. But everything else in that article, the claims that I leaked information, that I used my position to pursue him, that I had ulterior motives, all of it was fabricated by someone who wanted to profit from lies.”
Another reporter: “But you were assigned to shadow Mr. Storm. Doesn’t that create a conflict of interest?”
“It could have, if I’d let my personal feelings interfere with my professional judgment. But I didn’t.” She pauses, gathering herself. “Every decision I made regarding Carter’s public image was based on what was best for him and for the team. Nothing more. And anyone who’s worked with me over the past two years knows I take my job seriously. I don’t compromise my ethics for anyone.”
“Damn right,” Marcus mutters beside me.
A female reporter stands. “Ms. Rivers, what do you say to people who claim you’re just a former model who slept her way into this position?”
The question hits below the belt, and I see Olivia’s jaw tighten. But she doesn’t flinch.
“I say they don’t know me. And they don’t know what it took for me to get here.” Her voice gains strength. “Yes, I was a model. I spent years in an industry that valued my appearance over my intelligence. When that career ended, I could’ve walked away and lived off my savings. But I didn’t. I went back to school, earned my degree in communications and worked my way up from intern to assistant to specialist. I’ve earned every single opportunity I’ve been given through hard work and dedication.”
She pauses, scanning the room.
“So, to anyone who thinks I’m just a pretty face who got lucky, you’re wrong. I’m a professional who happens to have fallen in love with someone I work with. And while I regret the timing, I don’t regret him. I won’t apologize for that.”
The room erupts again, reporters shouting over each other.
“Hell yeah,” Derek says, grinning.
Tank stops pacing. “She’s killing it.”
Mark steps back to the podium, taking control. “That’s all the questions we’re taking today. We’ll be releasing the full documentation to the media within the hour. Thank you.”
The feed cuts, switching to news anchors discussing what just happened. I’m already on my feet, heading for the door.
“Storm, where are you going?” Derek calls.
“To find her.”
I take the stairs two at a time, heading toward the conference room. Staff members are already flooding the hallways, buzzing with excitement. I hear fragments of conversation as I push past.
“Did you see her face?”
“She didn’t back down once.”
“That’s our Olivia.”
I round the corner and nearly collide with Ralph.
“Storm.” He grabs my arm. “She’s in Mark’s office. Give them a few minutes.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s better than okay.” Ralph’s expression is approving. “She was brilliant. Professional, composed, and she didn’t let them bait her into saying anything she’d regret. Mark’s probably offering her a raise right now.”
Relief floods through me. “Good. She deserves it.”
