Bound by Contract, Owned by Hate

Media Circus and Private War

Chapter 13

(Sophia's POV)

The documents were still in my head the next morning.

Elena's signature. Clean and unmistakable on a page that had no business existing. My mother's handwriting on evidence of a betrayal that had quietly hollowed out everything I thought I knew about our family's collapse.

I'd held myself together in Xander's study.

Barely.

I held myself together all the way to Laurent Luxe.

Then walked straight past Lila, closed my office door, and stood at the window for four full minutes before I trusted myself to sit down.

My mother hadn't just been a victim of the Voss family's manipulation.

She'd been inside it.

I locked that thought in a box, put the box somewhere I wouldn't look at it until I had more information and opened my laptop.

Work, Structure and Forward motion.

The only three things that had never failed me.

Lila knocked at eight-fifteen.

"The morning coverage is significant," she said carefully, setting her tablet on my desk. "I thought you should see it before the board meeting."

Significant was an understatement.

We were everywhere.

The Hargrove gala photographs had circulated overnight across every major publication and half the internet. Sophia and Xander Voss photographed no fewer than fourteen times throughout the evening. Close, Coordinated and Convincing.

One photograph in particular had taken on a life of its own, Xander straightening my collar outside the car at the curb, his expression unguarded for precisely one fraction of a second before he composed himself again.

The internet had decided it was the most romantic thing they'd seen all month.

'Voss heir shows rare tender moment with new bride.'

'Laurent Luxe stock surges as power couple solidifies public image.'

'Is this Manhattan's most unexpected love story?'

I stared at that last headline longer than necessary.

Unexpected.

That was one word for it.

"The Hargrove Foundation has requested a follow-up feature," Lila continued. "And we've received three interview requests; Vogue, The Times and one from Rachel Voss at the Manhattan Chronicle."

My eyes moved to the last name. "Rachel Voss."

"No relation to Xander, I confirmed," Lila said. "But she's been covering the Voss Group for two years. She's thorough and she doesn't do puff pieces."

"Decline all three for now," I said. "Draft a statement thanking the Hargrove Foundation. Keep it warm, keep it brief."

Lila nodded and moved toward the door.

"Also," she added, pausing, "Izzy is already in the design room and she wants five minutes before the board meeting. She says it's urgent but her version of urgent sometimes means she found a fabric she likes."

Despite everything, something loosened slightly in my chest.

"Tell her ten minutes," I said.

Izzy's version of urgent was not fabric.

She closed the design room door behind her and turned with the expression she reserved for things she'd been sitting on and couldn't anymore.

"Rachel Voss approached Claire at the gala last night," she said. "Asked about Laurent Luxe's internal restructuring and whether it was connected to the merger timeline."

I went still. "Claire told me nothing."

"Claire told me this morning. She didn't want to worry you during the event." Izzy crossed her arms. "Sophie, this journalist is digging. She's not covering the romance angle. She's covering the corporate one."

Rachel Voss.

Thorough. Two years on the Voss Group beat.

"She's looking for inconsistencies in the merger narrative," I said.

"That's my read too."

"Then we make sure there are none to find." I straightened. "I'll call Xander before the board meeting."

Izzy raised an eyebrow. "You're calling him voluntarily now?"

"Don't read into it," I said.

"I'm reading everything into it," she responded.

The board meeting lasted two hours.

Laurent Luxe's numbers were strong, stronger than even the optimistic projections had suggested. The public marriage narrative had delivered precisely what we'd needed. Shareholders' confidence was up and Three previously hesitant European partners had re-engaged.

Victor's fingerprints were nowhere visible.

Which meant he was being careful.

Careful men were always more dangerous than reckless ones.

Xander met me in the lobby of Voss Group at three.

He'd already heard about Rachel. Richard had flagged her approach to Claire the same morning Izzy had.

"She's building something," he said as we rode the elevator up.

"How long has she been on your radar?"

"Six months. She's connected." His jaw tightened slightly. "Victor has used sympathetic journalists before to manage narratives. I can't confirm she's one of them but I'm not ruling it out."

I thought about that.

"If she's Victor's instrument she'll be looking for the contract," I said.

The elevator doors opened. Xander held them without moving.

"Yes," he said.

"Then we need to make sure the public version of this marriage has no visible seams," I replied. "Nothing she can pull at."

His gray eyes held mine for a moment.

"Agreed," he said quietly.

We walked into the boardroom together.

Shoulder to shoulder.

Two people who'd spent fifteen years on opposite sides of a war, now building the same wall against the same enemy.

The media circus was loud and relentless outside.

But in here, in the private war neither of us had chosen, something was quietly, carefully changing.