Elliot nods. “We’ll need to walk her through it. Timeline. How you met. How you kept it private. How you got married quietly. The narrative has to feel believable.”
“It will,” I say.
Theo snorts. “Because nothing says believable like ‘billionaire and event planner secretly fall in love and elope.’”
“It’s not love,” I say, cutting.
Theo’s smile disappears fully now. “You keep saying that like you’re trying to convince us.”
The air shifts.
Rowan watches me like a guard watching the edge of a cliff.
Caleb stays silent, but his eyes don’t.
Elliot’s expression eases, just slightly, like he can see something I can’t.
I step back toward my desk and force my hands to unclench.
“Tomorrow,” I say, voice measured again. “After she signs, PR will brief her. We have an event this weekend. The launch happens then.”
Caleb’s posture changes. “You’re launching your wife like a product.”
I look at him sharply.
“I’m protecting her,” I say.
Caleb holds my gaze. “From who?”
I don’t answer.
Because the answer is obvious.
From my father.
From the media.
From men like Whitaker.
From the world that will tear Lucy apart if it senses she’s unprotected.
And from myself, if I don’t keep this contained inside something I can control.
Rowan clears his throat once, subtle.
“I’ll arrange the officiant,” he says. “Discreet. No leaks.”
“Good.”
Theo pushes up from the chair. “And you?” he asks, quieter now. “Are you okay?”
The question is so unexpected it irritates me on instinct.
“I’m fine.” I snap.
Theo studies me like he doesn’t believe a word I’ve said all week.
Then he turns toward the door.
