His Contract Bride

THE FALLOUT

#GalaDisaster was trending. So was #KingsHumiliatesPlanner. Her name—her full name—was splashed across every gossip site and news page in the city.“The event planner who ruined Tyler Kings’ $5 million gala”By dawn, her inbox looked like a graveyard.Cancellations.Suspensions.Cold, polite emails filled with empty phrases like “given recent events” and “reassessing partnership terms.”Enid sat at her desk, the city skyline bleeding gray light across her apartment. Her workspace — normally her sanctuary — looked like a storm had passed through. Notes, fabric samples, and coffee cups scattered between her trembling hands.The trending hashtags blinked on her screen like taunts.#RobotInADesignerSuit.#GalaGate.#EnidAdamsMeltdown.Her phone buzzed again. Zara.Enid hesitated before answering. “Hey.”Her sister’s voice came through, soft but laced with concern. “Enid, are you okay? I just saw the video.”“I’ve had better nights.”“Better nights? The whole internet’s talking about you and Tyler Kings! People are calling it ‘the most dramatic gala in New York history!’”“Wonderful,” Enid muttered. “Maybe I should start charging for entertainment.”“Enid, this isn’t funny,” Zara said quietly. “Mom and Jonah saw it too. They’re worried. Jonah wanted to drive up there—”“I’m fine,” Enid cut in quickly. “Tell them not to.”Silence lingered on the other end. “You spent everything we had left on Mom’s treatment. You can’t afford another setback.”“I know.”Her throat tightened around the words. She’d done it willingly — drained her company accounts, taken personal loans — because her mother deserved care without counting hospital hours. The gala was supposed to fix everything.And now…Everything she’d sacrificed was unraveling.By mid-morning, Enid was in full damage control mode.She drafted apology statements, called old clients, begged for private meetings. Her assistant, Margo, handled press inquiries as best she could. But the tone was the same everywhere — icy, hesitant.Her phone buzzed again.An unknown number.“Miss Adams?” a clipped voice greeted. “This is Pauline from Kings Corporation.”Enid’s pulse spiked. “Yes?”“Mr. Kings requests you refrain from making any public statement. Effective immediately.”Her grip tightened on the phone. “He requests?”“It’s in your original contract. Media representation clauses still apply post-termination. If you speak publicly about the incident, we’ll pursue legal action.”“Are you kidding me? He humiliated me in front of everyone!”“I’m not authorized to comment, Miss Adams. This is a courtesy call.”The line went dead.Enid stared at her phone in disbelief.So that was it — Tyler Kings was already moving to silence her.Her anger simmered under her ribs. He was protecting his image, ensuring the headlines only painted her as the reckless one.By evening, the real fallout began.Three sponsors withdrew upcoming collaborations. A potential wedding contract in Dubai — gone. The city’s top magazine pulled her feature article scheduled for next month.Her entire career, collapsing in twenty-four hours.She sat in her studio, staring at the darkened city beyond the windows, when Jonah showed up.Her younger brother, still wearing his uniform leaned against the doorway. “You didn’t answer my texts.”“I’ve been busy losing everything,” Enid said dryly.Jonah stepped closer, concern shadowing his features. “Zara told me you’re not eating.”“I’m fine.”“You always say that when you’re not.” He sighed, lowering himself into the chair across from her. “I saw the video too. The guy’s a jerk. Firing you in public like that? Who does that?”“The kind of man who thinks control is the same as class,” she muttered.“Mom says it’s not your fault. She blames herself, says if she hadn’t gotten sick—”“Don’t,” Enid interrupted sharply. “She doesn’t get to feel guilty for something that isn’t her fault.”Jonah studied her for a moment. “So what now?”“I rebuild,” Enid said. “Somehow.”He leaned back, skeptical. “Even if every sponsor backs out?”She met his gaze, her jaw tight. “Then I start from scratch.”Jonah smiled faintly. “That’s my sister.”But deep down, she wasn’t sure. Not this time.Across the city, in a penthouse overlooking Central Park, Tyler Kings watched the same chaos unfold — only he wasn’t worried.He stood before the massive glass windows of his office, hands in his pockets, his reflection merging with the skyline.“Your strategy worked,” said , Adrian Grant his best friend and CFO, stepping beside him. “By noon, every article framed you as the composed professional who handled a crisis with grace. Enid Adams looks like a ticking time bomb.”“Good,” Tyler said curtly.“You really wanted her destroyed that badly?”“She humiliated me in front of investors and media,” Tyler replied coldly. “This company runs on reputation. I’m protecting it.”Nolan smirked. “Still sounds personal.”Tyler’s gaze hardened. “It’s not.”But Adrian knew better. He’d seen Tyler’s expression when the footage first aired — the muscle in his jaw, the restrained fury. Tyler Kings didn’t take public embarrassment lightly.“How far did you go?” Adrian asked quietly.Tyler turned back to the window. “Just enough to ensure no one will hire her again.”Adrian exhaled. “Damn, man. That’s brutal.”“Necessary,” Tyler said. “She’ll survive. Or she won’t. Either way, she’ll stay out of my way.”By the next week, Enid’s company was on the verge of bankruptcy.Every call was a dead end. Every email came back with polite rejection. Even suppliers demanded upfront payments she couldn’t make.Margo finally walked into the office with tearful eyes. “They’re canceling the Met Gala renewal too, Enid. I—I’m so sorry.”Enid leaned back in her chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Of course they are.”Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind — You always find a way, sweetheart.But this time, she couldn’t see one.Her pride kept her from reaching out to anyone — especially him.So when her assistant left for the night, Enid stayed alone in the dim light of her office, scrolling through her dwindling accounts.That’s when the door opened. She didn’t look up immediately — assuming it was Margo again — until she heard that voice.“Working late, Miss Adams?”Her head snapped up.Tyler Kings stood in the doorway, as composed as ever — dark suit, no tie, sleeves rolled up like he owned the world and everything in it.Her pulse spiked with anger. “What are you doing here?”