Billion Dollar Promises

Chapter 2: Viral Flames

Savannah's phone was blowing up. She lay on her couch, the screen's harsh glow illuminating her small apartment. Every buzz made her flinch.

Twitter was a wildfire, and she had lost count of the notifications. The photo of her and Jaxson at the ballroom was everywhere online, with a caption that was getting more and more vicious by the minute. "Billionaire's Mystery Flame Sparks Ballroom Drama" was trending, it already had thousands of likes, retweets and the comments were brutal.

Who’s this chick?

Carrington’s latest fling? Looks desperate.

Bet she planned that spill for attention.

This can't be happening. She had worked tirelessly to build her event planning business from the ground up, and now one viral photo could undo it all. She flung her phone onto the coffee table, the sound echoing through the silence. Rubbing her temples, she tried to calm down. "I'm nobody's mystery anything," she muttered to herself.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Marissa Kent, her biggest client: "Savannah, we need to talk about the ballroom photos. This is unprofessional. Call me by 9 a.m.

Savannah's anxiety spiked. Marissa ran the Kent Foundation and losing her would be disastrous. She stared at her phone, her mind racing for a response. What could she even say? She hesitated, then dropped the phone onto her lap. Before she could process anything, another text from Elena popped up: "Girl, you see Twitter? They're ROASTING you. Call me ASAP."

Savannah's phone buzzed again. An email from the art gallery: "Savannah, we're concerned about the publicity from last night. We may need to reconsider our contract." Her heart sank. Two clients in one night? She paced back and forth, her bare feet making soft slapping sounds on the floor. One bad night, and it was all over. She could already see it: her business going down and her reputation ruined.

She grabbed her phone, scrolled through Twitter, wincing at the brutal comments. "Gold-digger," "nobody," "just a waitress." The speculation was even more vicious. Some called her a scorned ex, paid escort, manipulative seductress. A post claiming she had staged the whole thing to trap Jaxson had over a thousand likes. Savannah's fingers cramped around her phone. They didn't know her.

A new notification popped up with a direct message from a gossip account with 50,000 followers: Savannah Lane, right? Spill the tea. You and Carrington a thing? DM us for a feature. She deleted it, her pulse racing. The internet had her name, her face, her life. She had built her business on hard work and discretion, but now her name was everywhere. Now every search for “Savannah Lane” pulled up that photo, her eyes blazing, Jaxson’s smirk daring the world to talk.

Savannah collapsed onto the couch, her breathing shallow. How did this spiral out of control? She was just doing her job, and now her phone was blowing up, and her clients were bailing. Her gaze drifted to the bat by the couch, a pitiful defense in her vulnerable state. If Marissa dropped her, it was over. Savannah's mind echoed with the worst-case scenario.

Her phone rang, shattering the silence. Elena’s name flashed on the screen. Savannah answered, her voice rough. “I’m fine, El.”

"Liar," Elena said, her voice echoing with concern. "You see what they're saying about you and Carrington? People think you're sleeping with him."

Savannah rubbed her temples. "I bumped into him once, and now I'm his secret girlfriend?" "Girl, the internet's running wild," Elena said, her voice softening. "They're calling you 'Champagne Cinderella'." Savannah could almost hear Elena's expression turning serious. "Seriously, though, are you okay?"

Savannah's voice caught in her throat. "Marissa's furious, and the gallery's threatening to pull out. This could ruin everything." She hesitated, struggling to admit the truth. "Honestly, I'm freaking out."

“Elena sucked in a breath. “Damn. What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know.” Savannah’s voice cracked. “I can’t afford to lose them. I’ve got, like, two hundred bucks in my account.”

“Want me to come over? I've got wine and can chase off any reporters," Elena offered. Savannah chuckled weakly. "Thanks, but I need to get my head on straight. Marissa wants a call tomorrow, and I need to sound like I'm not falling apart."

“You will,” Elena said, firmly. “You always do. But, Sav, this Carrington thing… be careful as she hung up.

Savanna's eyes drifted to her laptop on the counter. And before she could stop herself, she opened it and searched “Jaxson Carrington.” The screen was filled with headlines: “Tech Titan Faces Takeover Rumors”. “Carrington Industries Stock Dips Amid Scandal”. And now, peppered among them, her photo. One article speculated Jaxson’s “reckless personal life” was tanking investor confidence. Another called her a “distraction” from his company’s troubles.

Great. I’m ruining his life too. She slammed the laptop shut, her hands trembling. Her business was hanging by a thread, and now she was tied to a billionaire’s PR nightmare. She didn’t know Jaxson, didn’t owe him anything, but the thought of his world made her skin crawl.

Jaxson Carrington sat thoughtfully in his chair, his gaze fixed on a photo on his phone. As he scrolled through Twitter, he encountered a mix of comments that were less than flattering. “Carrington seems distracted,” one tweet noted, and another remarked about his recent public attention. His CFO, Marcus Tate, moved around the room with a purposeful stride. “Jax, we need to address this situation. The board is concerned, and Nadia Voss is getting involved. Let’s focus on turning this around, starting with your public image after that night out,” he emphasized.

Jaxson’s eyes narrowed, his fingers drumming the desk. “I’ll handle it.”

“How?” Marcus stopped pacing, his hands spread. “The stock’s down five points. Investors are jittery. Voss is whispering about a takeover, and this” he jabbed a finger at the phone “makes you look like you’re more interested in chasing skirt than saving the company.”

Jaxson’s knuckles whitened. Marcus wasn’t wrong. Nadia Voss, his rival at Voss Tech, had been sniffing around for months, buying up shares, planting doubts. This photo was fuel to the fire. “What’s PR saying?”

"They're freaking out," Marcus said, raking a hand through his hair. "They need a statement by morning - something to spin this as a non-story. Maybe play up the romance angle, make it a cute love story. People love that crap."

Jaxson’s stomach twisted. A love story? With a woman he didn’t know? You’re quick. He’d meant it. She had handled Devon like a pro, all while staring him down like he was just another guy in her way. There was something about her that stuck with him like a spark, and a challenge. Marcus was right, though. His image needed damage control and fast.

“Get me options by noon,” Jaxson said, standing. “Something that shuts this down without making it worse.”

Marcus nodded, but his eyes lingered on Jaxson, calculating. “You sure there’s nothing to this? You and her?”

Jaxson’s jaw tightened. “I met her for five seconds. She’s nobody.”

Savannah's phone buzzed again, an unknown number flashing on her screen. "You're just like him," the text read. Her breath caught, and her hands felt icy cold. Memories of her dad flooded back. She stared at the words, her heart racing. What did they know? Her business was falling apart, her reputation was in shambles online, and now someone was dredging up her dad's past. She stood up, pacing around her apartment, her bare feet slapping against the floor. I'm not losing everything again. She felt like she was being suffocated. This wasn't just about some stupid rumor anymore. Something was coming, and she had no idea how to prepare.