TOO LATE MR.BILLIONAIRE

DAMAGE CONTROL

"Give me the phone," Ethan said again, hand already out.

Sophia handed it over without arguing, too rattled to fight him on it.

"Mr. Wells," Ethan said into the speaker, voice suddenly flat and businesslike, all the panic from a second ago tucked away somewhere she couldn't see. "This is Ethan Kingsley."

A pause on the line. "Mr. Kingsley. This is unexpected."

"I bet it is. Whatever documents you think you have, I'd like to see them before you print a single word of that story."

"With respect, I don't share sources or evidence before publication."

"Then let me save you the trouble." Ethan's tone didn't rise, didn't c***k, but something underneath it went sharp as a blade. "If you run a false story implying Sophia Bennett extorted my family, you'll be sued for defamation within the hour, and I will personally make sure every advertiser your paper has ever worked with hears about it by lunch."

Silence, longer this time.

"I'll need to verify a few things," Marcus said, voice noticeably smaller now. "I'll call back."

He hung up before Ethan could answer.

Sophia let out a breath she'd been holding since the phone first rang. "Do you think that worked?"

"It buys us a few hours. Maybe a day." Ethan set the phone down and dragged both hands through his hair. "Long enough to find out who actually leaked this before it becomes real."

"It's your mother. You said it yourself."

"I know what I said. I need proof before I go to war with her, or she'll just deny it and make me look unhinged in front of the board."

Sophia wrapped her arms around herself. The apartment suddenly felt too small, too thin walled, like the whole world could hear straight through them.

"I can't keep living like this," she said quietly. "Looking over my shoulder. Waiting for the next thing she throws at me."

"You won't have to."

"You keep saying that."

"Because I mean it." Ethan crossed the room, stopped in front of her, close enough that she could see the exhaustion carved into every line of his face. "I'm not going to let her turn my daughter's existence into a scandal she manages like a PR crisis."

"Our daughter," Sophia said, before she could stop herself.

Something shifted in his expression. Softened, just slightly, at the edges.

"Our daughter," he repeated, like he was testing the weight of the words.

Neither of them said anything for a moment. The quiet stretched out, less sharp than before, almost comfortable, which scared Sophia more than the reporter had.

Her phone buzzed again.

She flinched.

"It's not the reporter," Ethan said, glancing at the screen over her shoulder. "It's Nora."

Sophia answered. "Hey, it's late, is everything..."

"Turn on the news," Nora said, breathless, like she'd been running. "Right now. Channel four."

Sophia grabbed the remote with shaking hands and clicked the television on. Ethan stood frozen beside her as the screen flickered to life.

A reporter stood outside Kingsley Tower, microphone in hand, breaking news banner scrolling red across the bottom of the screen.

Sources close to the Kingsley family confirm CEO Ethan Kingsley has quietly ended his engagement to Isabella Laurent, just eighteen hours after the public announcement, amid rumors of a secret pregnancy involving a former partner.

"How." Ethan's voice had gone hoarse. "I haven't even told the board yet. I haven't told Isabella."

"Someone leaked it," Sophia said slowly, the pieces sliding together again, faster this time, uglier. "Someone got ahead of you."

The screen cut to a photo. Sophia felt her stomach drop straight through the floor.

It was her. Standing outside the coffee shop that morning, Ethan's hand hovering near her elbow, caught mid frame by some photographer she'd never even noticed.

The woman pictured has been identified as Sophia Bennett, founder of Bennett Designs.

Her name. Her face. Her company. All of it, out in the world now, permanently, no way to take any of it back.

"They doxxed me," she whispered.

Ethan's phone started ringing. Then hers. Then his again.

"That's my mother," he said, staring at the screen. "She's calling."

"Don't answer it."

"I have to. If I don't, she'll know I'm rattled."

He answered, put it to his ear, and Sophia watched his face change in real time, watched the color drain out of it entirely.

"What do you mean she's already at the building," Ethan said. "Which building. Mother, which building."

Sophia's stomach turned to ice.

"She's outside," Ethan said, lowering the phone slowly, eyes locking on Sophia's. "Right now. Downstairs. She wants to speak to you in person."

A knock sounded at the door behind them, sharp and certain, three times.

Neither of them moved.