Chapter 3

Aurelia POV:

"Aurelia! Have you seen Twitter?" My boss, Sarah, didn't even bother with a greeting. Her voice was tight with controlled fury, a tone I knew meant trouble. "Check it. Now."

My fingers fumbled with the screen, the blue bird icon glaring back at me. I tapped it open, and there it was, splashed across my feed like a bucket of ice water. A headline, screaming in bold, unforgiving letters.

"ROBERSON CONFIRMS ROMANCE WITH AIDE BLACKBURN: A CANDID LOVE STORY!"

My breath hitched. I scrolled down, my eyes burning. A photo. Chandler, his arm wrapped possessively around Britni, beaming that politician's smile directly at the camera. Britni was gazing up at him, wide-eyed and adoring, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. They looked like the perfect couple.

Underneath it, Chandler' s tweet. Simple. Cruel.

"Excited to finally share my happiness with the world. @BritniBlackburn, you bring so much joy into my life. #OfficiallyYours #MyFuture"

Britni' s reply was instant, saccharine.

"My heart is yours, always, @ChandlerRoberson. So blessed to share this journey with you. "

A sharp, searing pain shot through my chest. Not the familiar ache of betrayal, but something new. A phantom limb pain for a future I' d once desperately wanted. He' d given her the public affirmation I' d craved for seven years. The open declaration. The casual use of "my future."

"Aurelia? Are you seeing this?" Sarah's voice cut through the haze.

"I see it," I whispered, my voice rough.

"That slimy, manipulative bastard!" Sarah exploded. "He uses your so-called 'imaginary boyfriend' as an excuse! He tweets about 'saving Britni's reputation' from rumors caused by your supposed fake relationship! Can you believe the audacity?"

I could. I knew Chandler. This was his move. Control the narrative. Paint me as the erratic, jealous ex.

"He's trying to make you look like a deranged stalker, a liar, after everything you've done for him," Sarah continued, her voice rising in pitch. "The legitimate wife, watching her career drown because her husband couldn't be bothered to acknowledge her! It's an outrage!"

"Sarah." I cut her off, my voice calm, almost emotionless. The pain was there, a dull throb, but it was overshadowed by a fierce, cold resolve. "I need you to do something for me."

"Anything, kiddo. Just tell me who you want me to publicly eviscerate first."

"I want to transfer to the international desk. The one in Geneva. The one I almost took ten years ago."

A stunned silence. "Geneva? Aurelia, why? Your career here is skyrocketing. You're one of our top political journalists."

"Because I need a change of scenery," I said, the words carefully chosen. "I need to get out of this... war zone. And I need to do the kind of journalism I always wanted to do."

"But... this is a lateral move at best right now, honey. After all this... scandal, it might even look like you're running away."

"Let them think what they want," I stated, my voice firm. "I'm not running. I'm choosing a different battlefield."

"Are you sure about this?" Sarah asked, a hint of unease in her tone.

"I've never been more sure."

I closed my eyes, a wave of memories washing over me. Geneva. Ten years ago. An offer to join a prestigious international investigative team. It was my dream. But then Chandler, with his earnest eyes and gentle touch, had begged me to stay.

"Aurelia, please. Don' t go. I need you here. My career is just taking off. You' re my biggest supporter. My rock. We' ll build something amazing, together. Can' t you do this for us? For me?"

He' d made it sound like a sacrifice for our shared future. And I, ever the dutiful partner, had said yes. I gave up Geneva, the chance to chase stories across continents, the thrill of uncovering global truths. Instead, I' d stayed in Washington, D.C., becoming a political journalist, always careful not to overshadow him, always ready to defend him, to spin the narrative when his youthful ambition veered too close to scandal.

When his parents died, and mine soon after, we were just kids, really. We had each other. He was my shelter, I was his anchor. I remembered when he first joined the military academy, a raw recruit. I' d watched him train, his body growing lean and hard. Once, during a particularly grueling exercise, he' d taken a fall, twisting his ankle. I was there, rushing to his side, ignoring the medics.

"Idiot," I'd mumbled, tears blurring my vision as I gently cradled his foot. "Why do you push yourself so hard?"

He'd just grinned, a boyish, charming grin that still melted my heart. "For you, Aurelia. Always for you."

I'd spent weeks nursing him back to health, feeding him, reading to him. I believed him. I believed in us.

The international desk offer was just a dream then. He' d never wanted to be a politician. He'd wanted to be a research scientist, buried in labs, discovering new things. But after his parents, the family legacy, the pressure... he' d switched paths, found a new ambition. He' d claimed it was for me, so he could provide a stable life. I' d believed that too.

I shook my head, clearing the cobwebs of the past. No more.

My phone rang again, startling me. Chandler. The caller ID flashed his name, a stark reminder of the man I was leaving behind. I hesitated, then answered.