Chapter 7
1543 Words
The Media Scandal
Camilla’s POV
After Daniel left my mansion suspecting me, there’s a sound I’ll never forget.
It’s the sound of twenty camera shutters snapping all at once. Of questions flung like daggers in my direction, of reporters shouting my name as if I were a celebrity.
I wasn’t. I was just a woman who made a mistake—or maybe, a thousand of them.
And now the whole world knew.
It began on a quiet morning, just after he left London.
Damian had left early for a board meeting at De-Rosie UK, and I’d just finished reviewing a fashion pitch for my new boutique line.
I was in my robe, sipping peppermint tea, when I got the first ping on my phone.
PING.
"Is this true?"
From Bella, my childhood friend from Naples.
Then another.
PING.
"OMG, you didn’t tell me! Who’s the father?"
From Lydia, a former co-worker at De-Rosie Tech.
I stared at the screen, confused. My breath hitched when I saw a breaking headline pop up on my home screen:
> "EXCLUSIVE: Billionaire Bride Camilla De-Canio Expecting! Sources say the father might not be her husband."
The room spun.
I grabbed the phone with my shaking hands, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. My fingers fumbled as I typed into the search bar.
Every site I opened written the same thing, each more sensational than the last.
> "Fashion Mogul Camilla Hiding Baby Bump at Red Carpet Event!"
"Is Damian De-Rosie Being Played by His Own Wife?"
"Baby Scandal Could Change De-Rosie Heirship."
I dropped the phone.
How? I had taken every precaution. Damian and I had agreed to keep the pregnancy a secret after Daniel left, he promised to still be in contract marriage with me—at least for the mean time.
We needed time to figure out how to handle it without adding fuel to the already volatile situation between him and his brother Daniel.
Now it was everywhere.
The doorbell rang.
I didn’t answer. The bell rang again, and again and again. It was relentless.
Then came the banging.
Panic gripped me.
I looked through the peephole and saw flashing cameras outside the gate, reporters.
Microphones, some even scaled the fence just to get a closer shot. One of them screamed, “Camilla! Is the baby Daniel’s?” I was very scared of everything at that very moment.
I stumbled backward, pressing my hands to my stomach as if shielding my unborn child from their voices.
How did they know?
Who told them?
The world had found out my secret before I could even tell my own mother.
Damian arrived home three hours later, and he wasn’t alone.
He stormed into my mansion with his assistant trailing behind him and a team of lawyers in tow.
The minute he laid eyes on me, his expression cracked—just for a second. Then it was back to icy composure.
“We’re shutting down the press with an injunction,” he said coldly, tossing his coat aside.
I stood in the middle of the room, still in the same robe, my face pale and tired. “Someone leaked it.”
He nodded. “Yes. We believe it was someone from Daniel’s circle. His assistant or one of the house staff or possibly even Daniel himself.” I could sensed that from his looks.
My throat dried.
“Daniel?” I yelled.
Damian’s mind rised, but he didn’t confirm it. “It doesn’t matter, what matters is damage control.”
I nodded faintly, unsure what to feel. I had no energy to argue, no strength to dissect who had betrayed me.
He turned to the lawyers. “Prepare a statement. She’s been my wife for months now. She’s carrying my child. That’s all the world needs to know.”
I flinched.
“Damian—”
His gaze sliced through me. “We agreed. This contract protects both of us, especially now. Unless you want your child to be born into scandal?”
His words were so real. Too measured.
And yet—there was something behind them. His fingers trembled as he poured himself a glass of water. His usual controlled demeanor was cracking, just a little.
He was angry. But he was also scared.
So was I.
The next morning, the world exploded again.
We made the announcement: “Mr. and Mrs. Damian De-Rosie are expecting their first child.”
The press ate it up.
There were congratulatory posts, speculation about baby names, rumors about an early wedding.
Some of the more malicious tabloids didn’t buy it. They continued to press the theory that the father wasn’t Damian.
I stayed inside for three days.
I didn’t eat much and I didn’t sleep much. I just stared at the ceiling and held my stomach, wondering how something so beautiful—so intimate—had become the fuel for gossip columns and corporate warfare.
My mother called. I didn’t pick up at first. When I finally did, her voice was tearful.
“Camilla... is it true?”
I couldn’t speak.
“I saw you. On TV. You’re pregnant?”
I pressed the phone to my ear and whispered, “Yes.”
A beat of silence.
“Does he love you?”
I blinked. “Who?”
“Damian.”
I opened my mouth to lie, to say yes, to say of course—but nothing came out. Because I wasn’t sure, not anymore.
All I could say was, “He’s taking care of us.”
Another pause.
“And Daniel?” she asked, her voice careful.
I let out a breath. “Daniel doesn’t know.”
By the end of the week, I was finally allowed to step out.
I was dressed in a soft beige maternity dress that hugged my curves and concealed my barely-there bump.
Damian held my hand as we exited the mansion, the flash of cameras temporarily blinding me.
He leaned down and whispered, “Just smile. Don’t say a word.”
I nodded.
He pulled me closer.
For the first time, his hand lingered on my waist. It felt less like duty, more like protection. Maybe even... affection?
We went to a charity gala. Damian gave a speech. The media fawned over us, calling us the new golden couple of London.
But behind the scenes, I was drowning.
Because Daniel was here.
I spotted him across the room—dark suit, signature smirk, eyes glued to my every move. He hadn’t tried to reach me since the scandal broke. I thought he might stay away.
I was wrong.
He approached while Damian was pulled into a conversation with the mayor. His voice was low, his eyes wide open.
“You’re glowing,” he said.
I swallowed hard. “Daniel...”
“Is it mine?” he asked, his tone gentle, not accusing.
I couldn’t lie. Not here, not to him and not anymore.
“Yes.”
He exhaled and looked away. His jaw flexed. Then, he turned back to me, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Why didn’t you tell me when I asked the first time?”
Tears stung my eyes. “Because I didn’t know.”
He didn’t say anything again, just nodded slowly.
“Does he know?” He asked again.
“No.”
Daniel’s gaze shifted back to me. “You should tell him.”
Before I could answer, Damian returned.
There was a moment—a heartbeat—when the three of us stood together, surrounded by laughter, and yet cloaked in unspoken truth.
I was holding a secret.
A living, growing secret inside me.
And they were both men who could shape its future.
That night, back at our mansion, I sat on the bed while Damian removed his tie. He didn’t look at me when he spoke.
“I saw you talking to him.”
“I had to,” I said quietly. “He knows now.”
Damian turned to me. His expression was so furious. “Are you going to tell him everything?”
I hesitated. “What do you mean?”
“About the contract. About us and about the child.”
I shook my head. “No. That’s between you and me.”
He nodded once. Then he came over and knelt in front of me, his hand resting on my knee and his eyes locked with mine.
“Camilla, I need to ask you something.”
I braced myself.
“Do you want him to be part of this child’s life?”
Tears welled up again.
“I don’t know.”
He reached out and placed his hand gently on my stomach. For a man who had always been so cold, so logical, the gesture caught me off guard.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he said quietly. “Even if this baby isn’t mine... I want to raise it with you.”
My breath caught.
For the first time, Damian wasn’t speaking as a strategist, or a CEO, or a contract husband.
He was speaking as a man.
A man who might be falling in love.
And I—despite all the lies, despite all the chaos—was afraid I might be falling for him too.
- Writer
