Bound By Fire

Chapter Five

Amelia

The notification buzzed on my phone just as I was leaving the chambers. Normally, I would have ignored it, I don’t check my phone after a grueling day in court. But the vibration kept pulsing, one after another, until I cursed under my breath and fished it out of my bag.

My stomach plummeted.

BLACKWOOD’S SECRET AFFAIR? COURTROOM RIVAL OR LOVER?

The headline screamed at me from the gossip blog’s glossy feed, accompanied by a grainy shot of me and Damian. Not kissing, thank God, but close enough. We were in the corridor from last week, his hand brushing mine, his body angled toward me like he was about to devour me whole.

Heat flared in my cheeks, mortification colliding with rage. The comments were already rolling in.

"She’s his lawyer’s opponent? This is a conflict of interest if I’ve ever seen one.

Blackwood always did like brunettes.

Cross isn’t as innocent as she looks".

I stopped dead on the courthouse steps, bile rising in my throat. This wasn’t just gossip. This was my reputation. Years of building myself up as one of the most uncompromising litigators in the city reduced to whispers about being some billionaire’s sidepiece.

My phone buzzed again. Chloe, my best friend. I didn’t answer. If I heard pity in her voice, I might shatter.

I forced my legs to move, each step tight with fury. Only one person could pull something like this: Damian Blackwood himself. Of course he’d leak it. Of course he’d exploit that one slip of weakness, that kiss I’d been regretting ever since.

He wanted me off balance. And he’d succeeded.

By the time I reached my office, my hands were shaking. I slammed the door shut, dropped my bag on the desk, and pressed both palms to my temples.

This couldn’t stick. I couldn’t let it stick.

But the worst part wasn’t the article. It wasn’t even the threat it posed to my career.

It was the small, shameful part of me that looked at that photo and thought… we did look like lovers. The tension between us was undeniable, visible to anyone with eyes. And if a stranger scrolling on their phone could see it, how long could I keep pretending I didn’t?

I hated him for this. I hated myself more.

And when my phone buzzed again, this time with his name lighting up the screen, I answered.

“Enjoying your little victory?” I snapped.

There was a pause, then his voice, smooth and unhurried. “So you’ve seen it.”

“Don’t play dumb, Damian. You leaked it.”

His laugh was low, infuriatingly calm. “Not this time, sweetheart.”

I froze.

“What?”

“If I wanted the world to think you belonged to me,” he drawled, “I wouldn’t settle for a blurry photo. I’d give them something undeniable.”

My throat went dry. I hated that my pulse jumped at the implication.

“So if it wasn’t you,” I forced out, “then who...”

The answer hit me before he spoke.

Vanessa.

-------------------------------------------

Damian

I hadn’t done it. That was the irony.

Yes, I’d been planning something, a leak, a rumor, a nudge in the right direction to make Amelia admit that what we had wasn’t just in her head. But this? This cheap little scandal splashed across the gossip pages? That wasn’t me.

It had Vanessa’s fingerprints all over it.

I should have expected it. My soon-to-be ex-wife had always been clever when it came to image, to manipulation. She knew exactly where to cut for maximum bleed. And she’d done it, Amelia’s reputation was in jeopardy, and the case was suddenly painted in shades of scandal.

The thought of Vanessa smearing Amelia like that made my jaw tighten. Amelia belonged in a courtroom, sharp and untouchable, not dragged through the mud like some mistress.

When she picked up my call, spitting fire at me, I almost smiled despite my rage. That passion, that bite, it was why I couldn’t stay away from her.

But I told her the truth. Not this time.

Because if I was going to break her, to make her admit she wanted me, I wouldn’t let someone else write the story. That would be mine. Ours.

Now, though, Vanessa had forced my hand.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the city skyline from my penthouse window. Amelia thought I was her enemy. Fine. She could keep thinking that. But Vanessa? She had just declared herself another player in this war.

And if she thought she could destroy Amelia to get to me, she was dead wrong.

Because no matter what Amelia believed, no matter how much she fought me, she was mine to protect. Mine to ruin. Mine, period.

I picked up my phone again, dialing Victor Hayes.

“Control the narrative,” I told him, my voice hard. “I want this rumor managed by tomorrow morning. And Victor? Make sure Vanessa knows she just made a very costly mistake.”

When I hung up, I let myself picture Amelia’s face when she saw the article. That mix of fury and hurt.

She thought I was her problem.

She hadn’t seen anything yet.