Chapter 7:The press conference
1283 Words
Lisa woke up to camera flashes.
She couldn’t see them. But she could hear them. Hundreds. Outside the penthouse windows.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
“Hello?” Lisa said, voice hoarse.
_“Don’t look at the news,”_ Damien said. No greeting.
Lisa sat up. “What’s happening?”
_“The gala photos. They leaked. Headline is ‘Billionaire Marries Blind Girl For Sympathy.’ Another one says ‘Is This A Pity Marriage?’”_
Lisa’s stomach dropped. “Oh.”
_“I’m calling a press conference in 2 hours. You’re coming with me.”_
Lisa froze. “Me? But I—”
“You’re my wife,” Damien cut in. “We do this together. Be ready in 90 minutes. Black dress.”
He hung up.
---
Mara helped Lisa dress in silence. The black dress. Pearls again.
“Are you scared?” Mara whispered.
Lisa nodded. “I can hear them downstairs.”
“They’re vultures,” Mara said. “But Mr. Voss won’t let them touch you.”
The car ride was worse than the gala.
Lisa could hear shouting even through the tinted windows. _“Mrs. Voss! Did he pay your family?!”_ _“Are you really blind or is this a stunt?!”_
Damien’s hand found hers.
“Don’t answer anything,” he said quietly. “Not one word. Just stand next to me. Breathe.”
Lisa nodded. Her palms were sweating.
The building was a wall of noise.
Then doors opened. Bright lights. More shouting.
Lisa counted Damien’s steps. 1, 2, 3.
They got to a podium. Microphones everywhere.
Damien didn’t let go of her hand.
“Cameras are rolling,” he murmured for only her.
Lisa lifted her chin. Smiled the practiced one.
Damien spoke first. His voice was calm. Deadly.
“Good morning. I’m Damien Voss. This is my wife, Lisa Voss.”
The room exploded. Questions.
_“Mr. Voss, did you pay her family?”_
_“Is this marriage real or for PR?”_
_“Mrs. Voss, can you even see him?”_
Lisa’s grip tightened on Damien’s hand.
Damien waited. Let the noise die.
“The marriage is real,” he said. “We were married 3 weeks ago. Legally. In front of witnesses.”
More shouting.
_“Why her? Why a blind woman?”_
Damien went still. Lisa felt it.
“Because she’s the only person who never asked me for anything,” he said. “She didn’t know who I was when we met. She doesn’t care about my money. She cares if I’m honest.”
Lisa’s breath caught.
Another reporter. A woman’s voice. “Mrs. Voss, do you have anything to say?”
All the microphones turned to her.
Lisa’s heart hammered. Damien squeezed her hand once. _You don’t have to._
But Lisa stepped forward. Toward the voices.
“I’m blind,” she said. Her voice was quiet, but the mic picked it up. The room went silent. “Since I was 7. I can’t see Mr. Voss’s face. Or his money. Or his company.”
A pause.
“What I can hear is how people talk to each other. And for the last 3 weeks, the way he talks to me... is the first time anyone has talked to me like I matter.”
Gasps.
Lisa swallowed. “So no. It’s not for PR. It’s not pity. It’s a marriage. And I’d appreciate if you let us have it in private.”
Silence.
Then Damien. “Conference is over.”
He pulled her away. Fast.
---
Back in the car, Lisa was shaking.
“Did I do okay?” she whispered.
Damien was quiet. Then: “You were perfect.”
Lisa let out a shaky laugh. “I lied a little. You don’t talk to me like I matter. You talk to me like I’m a problem to solve.”
Damien turned to her. “Do you want me to lie?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll try to do better.”
Lisa nodded. The car was quiet except for the rain starting again.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
Lisa answered. “Hello?”
_“Lisa? It’s Annabelle.”_
Lisa’s face fell. “What do you want.”
_“Are you crazy?! You just told the world we sold you! Mom is furious! The neighbors saw it on TV!”_
Lisa closed her eyes. “You sold me, Annabelle.”
_“We had to! And now you’re making us look bad. You need to do another interview. Say it was your idea.”_
Lisa didn’t answer.
_“Lisa? Lisa!”_
Damien took the phone from her hand.
“Don’t call her again,” he said. His voice was ice. “If you do, I will sue your family for defamation and breach of contract.”
He hung up and blocked the number.
Lisa stared at her lap. “They’re mad at me.”
“Good,” Damien said. “Let them be mad.”
---
Back at the penthouse, the noise was gone.
Lisa went to her room and collapsed on the bed.
Her phone buzzed 5 minutes later.
Unknown number.
She answered automatically. “Hello?”
_“It’s me,”_ Damien said. _“Are you okay?”_
“I think so,” Lisa said. “My head hurts.”
_“Come to the roof.”_
Lisa frowned. “Now? It’s raining.”
_“Exactly. No cameras. No reporters. Just rain.”_
Lisa smiled a little. “Okay.”
---
The roof was empty. Cold. Rain on her skin.
Damien was already there. No umbrella. Suit soaked.
Lisa sat beside him on the bench.
“You didn’t have to say that,” Lisa said. “At the conference. About me not asking for anything.”
“I didn’t lie,” Damien said.
Lisa pulled the blanket tighter. “People are going to be so mean online.”
“Let them,” Damien said. “You handled it better than I would have at 23.”
Lisa turned toward him. “Can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“Why did you really bring me up here?”
Damien was quiet. Then he reached over and took her hand.
“Because after the press conference, 200 people were screaming your name,” he said. “And I needed to hear just yours.”
Lisa’s chest went tight.
Rain hit her face.
“Damien,” she whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For not letting go.”
He didn’t answer. He just laced his fingers through hers.
They sat there until the rain stopped.
When they went inside, Damien walked her to her door.
“Goodnight, Lisa,” he said.
“Goodnight.”
She closed the door and leaned against it.
Her phone lit up.
Unknown number.
A text.
From Damien.
_You didn’t flinch today. Not once. -D_
Lisa stared at it. He never texted.
She typed back with shaking fingers.
_Neither did you. -L_
Her phone rang 2 seconds later.
“Why are you texting?” Damien asked when she answered.
“Because you did,” Lisa said, smiling.
A pause. Then the smallest laugh. “Fair.”
_“Sleep, Lisa.”_
“Okay.”
He hung up.
Across the penthouse, Damien looked at his phone.
He wasn’t supposed to text.
He wasn’t supposed to hold her hand in public.
He wasn’t supposed to feel proud when she talked back to reporters.
But he did.
And the world could watch.
- Writer
