“So will I,” she whispers.
Chapter 10 - Harper
The press conference feels less like a briefing and more like a coronation staged with surgical precision.
The polished marble, the lacquered podium, the gold-trimmed emblems gleam under studio lights. Even the air is rehearsed, controlled, perfumed with expensive cologne and performative approval. Cameras line the front row like a row of sharpened teeth, each lens hungry, each flash a bite.
And I’m standing in the center of it, next to Damian.
My tailored black suit, tailored to caress my curves mirrors his: sharp lines, severe silhouette, a blade forged from fabric and intention. The jacket molds to me like a second skin, feeding strength into the hollowness of my ribs. The pants taper cleanly, the heels elevate me just enough to match the cadence of his stride.
We stand shoulder to shoulder, two silhouettes carved from the same shadow.
The perfect alliance.
Or so the world is meant to think.
My heartbeat betrays me, a mismatched rhythm beneath the composure I’ve practiced. I can feel it in my wrists, in my throat, in the delicate hinge of my jaw. But my posture is steady, my chin lifted.
Beside me, Damian is a fortress. He is unmovable, unshakable, and somehow more dangerous for the restraint etched into every angle of his body.
He doesn’t touch me, but I feel the power of his presence like a gravitational pull. A low hum beneath my skin. It’s a reminder that this alliance binds us in ways neither of us can reverse.
The officials applaud as if scripted, but beneath each smile lies calculation. Devotion is a myth here; loyalty is currency. Every handshake is a transaction, every nod a negotiation disguised as courtesy.
I’m learning the choreography of this world faster than I expected.
Damian steps forward when the host signals. The room tilts toward him, cameras rising, lenses sharpened. He commands attention without trying. His voice is smooth steel as he begins speaking in a measured, controlled tone.
“Today marks a new era of security within our digital infrastructure,” he says. “One led jointly by myself and my wife.”
My wife.
I school my expression before the word can land too obviously.
The crowd reacts, a flicker of surprise quickly replaced by delighted intrigue. And here we are: the figurehead and his technocrat bride, the empire and its new queen. They see unity, strength, even something almost mythic.
They have no idea they’re witnessing a battlefield dressed as a ballroom.
Behind every statement Damian delivers, I hear what Damian is really trying to say, coded in subtext, sharpened by threat:We know you’re watching. Come closer. We’re ready.
I step beside him when the moment calls for my voice.
“Our goal,” I say, letting my tone cut cleanly through the chatter, “is to ensure that our future cannot be compromised by outdated systems or internal threat vectors.”
The room stills slightly.
My voice isn’t loud, but it’s clear. Damian shifts, attuned and approving, the air between us tightening like something held in quiet tension.
I continue, pacing my words with intentional calm.
“This initiative is about setting a global standard, one that proves collaboration is our greatest weapon.”
A few members of the press scribble furiously. A few more exchange glances, reading between the lines.
It hits them exactly the way we intended.
We’re one.
