“Is that his assistant or his fiancée?”
My fingers curl into fists before I even realize it.
Olive is kind and fierce and soft in all the places I forgot how to be.
And these people? They don’t get to talk about her like that.
They don’t know the first thing about her—or about us.
I swipe back to the forum, thumb hovering over a particularly nasty comment. I could reply. I could say something. But I’ve played this game before. Feeding trolls only makes them hungrier.
What I really want to do is get in the car, drive to her school, and wrap her in my arms. Shield her. Make it all go away.
I should’ve prepared her. Should’ve warned her this would happen. I knew the media could be brutal. I’ve lived it.
But she’s never been in this world. Not like this.
A headline flashes across the entertainment blog I’m scrolling:
“EXCLUSIVE: Rockstar’s Fiancée Identified—Inside Olive Hart’s Everyday Life at Sunnybrook Kindergarten”
My stomach drops.
The article is all sunshine and faux-fluff at first—photos of Olive smiling with kids, quotes from “anonymous sources” about how “down-to-earth” she is. But then I see it.
The name of the school.
The address.
I’m on my feet before I realize I’ve moved, grabbing the remote with one hand and switching on the TV. I flip to the entertainment news channel, heart pounding.
And there it is.
Footage from this morning. A gaggle of reporters, cameras flashing, standing right outside Sunnybrook’s front gate. One even tries to corner a parent for comment.
I mutter, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
This isn’t just gossip anymore. This is her job. Her life. The place she’s supposed to feel safe. And these vultures have turned it into a circus.
I can only imagine what Olive must be feeling right now—trapped, exposed, blindsided.
I should’ve known this would happen. Should’ve prepared better. Should’ve kept her safe.
But I didn’t.
I’m in the middle of firing off a furious email to my PR team, demanding damage control, when a loud knock rattles the door.
No—pounding.
It can’t be more than a handful of people. Only a few even have security clearance to reach my door.
I open it.
Liam storms in, eyes blazing. “What the fuck, Ash?”
I blink. “Hey—what’s—”
“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” he snaps, spinning to face me in the entryway. “What the hell is going on?”
