Adrian’s poisonous revelation settled between them like a fine, corrosive dust. You were a seed. He values the stability you provide. The questions were unanswerable, so they did the only thing they could: they buried them under action.
The new story—the story of choice, of devotion—began its production that very evening. Xavier’s head of public relations, a sharp-eyed woman named Anya who smelled of ozone and ambition, was summoned. For two hours, they sat in the study as Anya laid out a plan.
“We need visuals. Authentic moments of unity. Not staged photos, but captured ‘candid’ interactions,” Anya said, her tablet glowing. “A shared meal here, reviewing security footage together there. You, Luna, attending a pack-run charity event on his arm. We’ll leak them through trusted channels. T
