Oh God.
My heart pounds in my chest as I tiptoe toward the front door, my heels lightly clicking on the marble floor. Fear grips at me as I look through the peephole and immediately let out a breath of relief.
Damon and Quinton stand on the other side.
Thank fucking God.
Opening the door, I force a smile. “Hi. You’re early.”
"What's wrong?" Damon raises a brow, frowning. "Did something happen?”
“No,” I squeak out, clearing my throat. “Everything’s fine. Just some…electrical issues.”
Quinton frowns as well. “Are you sure? You look a tad pale.”
“Just nervous.” I manage to conjure up a dismissive laugh. "The press and all," I lie. "You know I don't like cameras."
Quinton offers me his arm. "You'll be fine, darling," he reassures me. "I doubt they will address you unprompted." He gives me a warm smile. “Shall we go then?”
I swallow, my gaze drifting to Quinton's outstretched arm. This is necessary, I know. Our performance for the public is mandatory. We need to fit into the norms of society. We need to safeguard ourselves from the scrutiny, from the whispers.
It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just for show. But my eyes betray me as they flicker toward Damon. He understands, but there’s tension in his stiff posture. He doesn't want to be relegated to “the friend.” I get it. I understand his discomfort.
"Take his hand, Emery,” Damon breaks the silence with a forced smile. "That's an order."
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "I'm ready," I say, latching onto Quin. “Let’s go.”
We head down to the town car, and as we slide inside, the door closing behind us, I steal a glance at Damon. I swallow, knowing that this isn’t ideal. But he gives me a small nod, understanding passing between us. I smile at him, and his shoulders relax.
We’ll adjust us. We must.
As we’re driven to the press conference, I try to shake off whatever fuckery just occurred at the condo. The car weaves through the city, and Damon and Quin’s hands find mine, two silent anchors that hold me down. Relax me. Remind me that I’m safe and loved and protected.
The town car pulls up outside NovaTech Pharmaceuticals, a swarm of media vans and reporters clustered around a stage. The driver opens the door, and Damon gracefully steps out, followed by Quin.
Offering his hand, Quinton guides me out of the car. Cameras flash. Reporters yell. And I clutch onto Quin. Damon trailsbehind us, maintaining a discreet distance. My heart pangs with guilt.
Smiling at the cameras, Quinton walks up the short steps to the stage, and I feather a small kiss on his cheek, whispering, “I’m proud of you.”
I step off to the side and stand next to Damon as Quinton steps up to the podium, cameras flashing from every direction. Quin clears his throat, and the reporters fall silent, waiting for the big announcement.
"Thank you all for being here today,” Quin begins. “I stand before you not just as the CEO of NovaTech Pharmaceuticals but as a person who understands the profound impact our actions can have on everyday lives. Today, I wish to address a matter that has plagued our company and the hearts of those who have suffered due to the Diazenix scandal."
My heart swells as Quin does something far few large corporations do, he takes accountability, responsibly. For their lack of due diligence. Their oversight. Their greed.
Quinton's gaze is steady as he addresses each and every reporter, each camera, and I wonder if Toni is watching this press conference. I wonder if, in this moment, she, too, feels relief.
“I am proud to announce that the Marquis Foundation has established a four hundred million-dollar Diazenix Family Fund." A soft murmur ripples through the crowd as Quinton continues. "This fund is dedicated to families who have lost a parent, grandparent, or sibling to the Diazenix controversy. We hope this fund alleviates the physical and mental costs associated with the loss of a loved one.
"In addition to this fund, I have personally ensured that our legal department closes all transparency loopholes so that an oversight like this never happens again." Quin takes a small breath. "Again, thank you for being here today. I understandthe responsibility we bear, and I am committed to rectifying the wrongs of the past. Now, I will take any questions you may have."
Damon leans over to me as Quin takes questions from the media. “How much do you think he pays his speech writer?”
I perk a brow at the accusation. “Probably less than you used to.”
“So protective,” Damon smirks. “I wonder what you say about me when I’m not around.”
“Nothing good,” I whisper, teasing him.
