The flashing cameras outside Blackwell Towers lit up the pavement like a red carpet. Nina blinked against the sudden barrage of lights, instinctively reaching for Sebastian's hand. He didn't hesitate—he took her hand firmly, shielding her slightly with his body as security cleared a path.
"Mr. Blackwell! Who's the woman beside you?"
"Is that your fiancée or a new business partner?"
"Miss, are you planning to take over one of the divisions?"
Nina kept her head high, resisting the urge to shrink away. Every question felt like a bullet aimed at her stability, but she had no intention of letting them see her crack.
Sebastian didn't answer the reporters. He simply walked forward, composed and silent, his grip steady. Nina followed, heart hammering, but with every step, she matched his pace.
In the car, the noise fell away. The tinted windows dimmed the world's chaos, leaving only silence between them. Nina stared ahead for a moment, then turned toward him.
"They're going to twist everything, aren't they?"
Sebastian glanced at her. "Yes. But that's the cost of being seen. The world doesn't know what to do with a woman it can't categorize."
Her lips parted, but she closed them again, processing his words. "They'll assume I'm with you because I want power."
"And when you prove you already have power, they'll assume you stole it."
She let out a breathy laugh. "So I can't win."
"Oh, but you can. You just can't win by their rules. You'll win by rewriting them."
Back at the mansion, Nina retreated to her suite and pulled out her laptop. The press had already begun speculating—headlines buzzed about her as the mystery woman who spoke at the Blackwell board meeting. One blog called her "the surprise strategist," another labeled her a social climber with no real credentials.
She scrolled past the noise, but one comment froze her hand on the trackpad.
"Typical. Just another pretty face using the bedroom to get a seat at the table."
Nina's chest tightened.
She shut the laptop.
The room felt too large suddenly, too quiet. She stood up and crossed to the balcony, letting the cool evening air touch her skin. From the distance, the city looked indifferent—bright, alive, unaware of the firestorm brewing in her name.
Sebastian joined her not long after. He handed her a glass of wine and leaned against the railing beside her.
"I saw the headlines," he said.
She didn't respond immediately. "You were prepared for this, weren't you?"
"I've lived through worse."
"And me?" Her voice cracked slightly. "How do I survive this?"
He didn't answer right away. He simply turned and looked at her, really looked at her.
"You don't survive it by hiding," he said at last. "You survive it by owning your presence. If they want to call you names, let them. You've already proven you're more than what they say."
"But what if it never stops?"
"It won't. Not until they're forced to respect you."
Nina looked down at the city again. "What if I break before that?"
He reached out, fingers brushing her cheek. "Then I'll remind you who you are. Every single time."
The next morning, Nina woke up determined. The sting from the online backlash still lingered, but it had ignited something sharper than fear—resolve.
She spent the day immersed in research, contacting Damon to walk her through the finer details of Blackwell Corp's upcoming digital infrastructure pivot. She didn't want to just sit beside Sebastian at meetings. She wanted to contribute meaningfully.
When Sebastian returned home that evening, she met him in the study, whiteboard markers in hand, diagrams sketched behind her.
He arched a brow. "You've taken over my war room."
She smiled. "And reorganized your server investment strategy."
He laughed, genuinely this time. "God help my rivals."
They worked late into the night, refining points, arguing over projections, challenging each other with ideas. At some point, he paused and simply watched her—her eyes focused, fingers flying over the keyboard, lips pursed in concentration.
"You're extraordinary," he murmured.
She looked up, caught off guard. "What?"
"I never thought I could build something with someone. But with you… I see it."
She didn't answer. Instead, she walked around the table, stood between him and the chair, and leaned down to kiss him. Slowly, deeply. It wasn't passion alone—it was something that had grown over weeks, fed by trust and shared fire.
He pulled her into his lap, hands at her waist. "What are we becoming, Nina?"
She touched his face, her forehead resting against his. "Something stronger than either of us were alone."
Later that night, while he slept, Nina opened her laptop again. The harsh comments were still there, but now they looked… small. She began typing—not a reply, not a defense, but a post of her own.
"You want to know who I am? I'm the woman who stood in a room of powerful men and spoke with facts. I'm the woman who earns her place, not borrows it. And I'm not going anywhere."
She hit post.
By morning, the response was mixed—but louder than before. Other women began to comment beneath her post. Entrepreneurs. Professionals. Even interns. They saw her. They defended her. Some thanked her.
And in that digital tide, something shifted.
When Sebastian saw the post, he smiled. "That's my girl."
Damon arrived an hour later with reports. "You went viral," he said, shaking his head. "Public sentiment's shifting. Not everyone's on your side, but they're listening now."
"Let them listen," Nina said. "I've got more to say."
A few hours later, she got a message from Blackwell Corp's PR director. They wanted her to speak at an upcoming leadership conference—on redefining executive presence.
She stared at the invitation, stunned.
Sebastian looked over her shoulder. "Say yes."
"But—"
"No hesitations. You've already stepped into the light. Don't retreat now."
She accepted.
And for the first time, Nina felt something stronger than fear coursing through her veins.
She felt power.