The photograph appeared online before either of them had a chance to prepare for it, timestamped, unmistakable, Elena's hand resting briefly in Adrian's outside Dr. Whitley's office, a moment neither of them had thought twice about at the time.
By noon, it had a headline. By evening, it had a name attached, hers, found and printed despite every effort the university's communications office made to prevent it.
Elena sat frozen at her kitchen table, scrolling through comment sections she should have known better than to open, strangers dissecting her face, her body, her intentions, constructing entire narratives about who she was and what she'd done to end up photographed holding hands with a billionaire heir twice removed from his own identity.
"Don't read those." Maya reached over and c
