Sleep had not been Seraphina's friend for a while. Her dreams had been the weirdest amalgamation of her kidnapping—fitful nights haunted by her sister's cruel smile, the dark basement, the faces of those gangsters, and worst of all, the pain.
Her phone buzzed again. And again. And again.
The sound drilled into her skull, insistent and unforgiving. She reached for it, already knowing with the sick certainty that had become familiar since her rebirth—that whatever was on that screen would be bad.
The notifications were endless. Hundreds of them. Text messages. Missed calls. News alerts. Social media mentions climbing into the thousands, tens of thousands.
She sat up, pushed her hair back, and started scrolling.
**LANGFORD'S NEW OBSESSION: LOVE OR LEVERAGE?**
The photo beneath made her pause. It was from last night—the moment she'd stumbled and Alexander had caught her. But the angle, the lighting, the way the photographer had captured it made it look intimate. Romantic.
His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him like she was something precious. The way he'd shoved that photographer who'd grabbed her—fierce, possessive, dangerous. Like a wolf protecting its mate.
Her stomach twisted.
She scrolled. More headlines. More photos.
**FROM CRAZY SISTER TO ALEXANDER LANGFORD'S PRIZE: SERAPHINA HALE UPGRADES**
**HALE LUMINA CEO SPOTTED IN INTIMATE DINNER WITH LANGFORD HEIR—SOURCES CONFIRM ENGAGEMENT IMMINENT**
**THE BILLION-DOLLAR REBOUND: IS SERAPHINA HALE USING ALEXANDER LANGFORD?**
Her jaw tightened. She clicked on the last article.
*Sources close to the situation claim that Seraphina Hale deliberately leaked her location to paparazzi last night in a calculated PR move to divert attention from her scandals and violent behaviors to dating billionaire Alexander Langford. "She's desperate to control the narrative after the Derek King humiliation," says one insider. "This was staged from start to finish—the romantic dinner, the protective boyfriend act, even the 'ambush.' She knew exactly what she was doing."*
Staged.
They thought she'd staged it. Called the photographers herself. Orchestrated the whole thing—the cameras, the hands grabbing at her, the terror.
For a moment, white-hot rage flooded through her. Her fingers tightened on the phone hard enough that the edges bit into her palm. Then the fury cooled, sharpening into something more dangerous, more focused.
This wasn't just about her reputation anymore. Wasn't just PR statistics, or the need for a good public image.
This was about survival.
This could very well be the breath of air that resulted in thousands of dominoes collapsing without any stop. Once people started questioning her reputation, they would question everything. Her judgment, her stability, her fitness to run Hale Lumina. The downfall would become inevitable. The investors would pull out. Board members would whisper about replacing her. Clients would terminate contracts, citing "reputational concerns." The company would crumble.
And she'd be left with nothing—no company, no protection, no future. Just another cautionary tale about a desperate woman who'd reached too high and fallen too hard.
The room blurred around the edges, and her breath came in short puffs. A nasty, nauseating dread spread through her stomach. But she shoved it down with practiced force.
Evelyn.
Of course, it was Evelyn. The restaurant leak, the coordinated media blitz, the "sources close to the situation." It was all marked with the nasty fingerprints of her sister.
This was her new plan. Not murder—no, that had failed. But character assassination. Good gracious, it was genius. So fucking genius. Multiple outlets running the same angle simultaneously, all designed to destroy her credibility piece by piece. Strip away everything that made Seraphina valuable. Until Evelyn could waltz in and take everything.
Her phone rang. Aurora.
"Have you seen the photos?" Aurora's voice was tight with controlled panic.
"I'm looking at them now." Seraphina kept her voice steady. "How bad is it?"
Over the past few days, Seraphina had surprisingly started to like Aurora despite all the prejudices she'd held toward her before. The annoying half-sister who she'd barely tolerated, whose cheerful chatter and impulsive decisions had grated on her nerves. That same cheerfulness that used to irritate her now felt... refreshing. Different.
But Seraphina knew liking someone and trusting them were different things. This crisis was the test. Would Aurora have taken the initiative to research? To know exactly what was what and where the articles had been published? Would she be competent like a secretary should be?
"It's everywhere. Every major outlet. TMZ, Page Six, the Post, the Times—even the Financial Times is running a piece about how this affects Hale Lumina's stock price."
"Of course they are." Seraphina's lips curved without humor. "What else?"
"Think pieces. Opinion columns. Half calling you a social climber, half calling you a victim being manipulated. And—" Aurora hesitated. "There's a 'source' claiming you leaked the location yourself. That you staged the whole thing for publicity. That you don't deserve Alex and are blackmailing him. And one outlet—" Her voice dropped. "One's calling you a call girl selling yourself to the highest bidder."
The word hit like a physical blow. Knocked the air from her lungs.
Call girl.
They were calling her a call girl.
For a moment, Seraphina couldn't process it. Couldn't reconcile that word—that ugly, reductive, vicious word—with herself, with everything she'd built, everything she'd survived. She'd built a company from nothing. Had spent years proving she was more than just a Hale. More than just a pretty face with a famous last name. Had worked eighty-hour weeks, had sacrificed relationships and sleep and her health to prove she had value beyond her genetics.
And they were calling her a call girl.
The rage that flooded through her was sudden and cleansing, burning away the shock. How dare they! How dare they reduce her accomplishments to nothing, imply that everything she'd achieved was just sleeping her way to the top?
She forced herself to breathe. To think past the fury and focus on the crisis at hand.
"It's a coordinated attack, Aurora. What does our PR team say?"
"They want to put out statements. Damage control."
This was the point, wasn't it? That was exactly the point! This was exactly what Evelyn wanted. Wanted her angry, reactive, defensive. Wanted her to lash out, to respond emotionally, to prove she was the unstable, impulsive woman the headlines claimed.
"No. We're not panicking," Seraphina said. "Aurora, listen. We need to stop."
Every rushed statement, every defensive explanation, every attempt to control the narrative just proved the headlines right—that she was desperate, unstable, reactive. That she couldn't handle pressure.
"What?"
"We don't respond. Not yet." Her voice was firm, decided. "If we explain anything today—rushed and in panic mode—it looks like an excuse. Makes us defensive. The more we try to control it now, the worse it gets. Every statement we put out is just going to give them more ammunition."
"So we just let them destroy you?" Aurora's voice was sharp.