Chapter 3 Headlines And Heartbeat

The morning Selina's photo hit the tabloids, she was eating dry cereal from a mug and trying not to throw up.

Her phone buzzed like a warning siren.

[EXCLUSIVE: Mystery Woman Linked to Billionaire Twins-Pregnancy Scandal Brewing?]

-The Social Edit

She scrolled through the blurry photo of herself stepping out of Darian's building. The caption might as well have been a bullhorn:

"Selina Monroe-actress or opportunist?"

Her face was partially hidden, but the grainy sonogram in her hand was clear enough. She closed the article before the comments section could rip her apart.

The baby didn't deserve this.

She didn't either.

But she knew what she'd signed up for.

Meanwhile, Darian was doing damage control.

He stormed into the media boardroom of St. James Holdings like a force of nature. A table full of executives looked up, half of them already sweating. A flat-screen glared back with headlines from every corner of the internet. Selina's face was already going viral.

"We kill the story," Darian barked. "Now."

One of the PR directors, a young woman with shaking hands and too much hairspray, piped up. "It's already gone international. You can't kill it. We can only... steer it."

"To what?" he snapped. "A soap opera?"

"Actually..." another exec said hesitantly. "We could lean in."

Darian turned slowly. "Explain."

"Public sympathy. If we control the narrative-young woman, caught in a whirlwind, a mystery pregnancy-it humanizes the St. James brand. Makes you less... ruthless."

He stared for a long moment.

"Make it about Dax," he said finally. "Paint me as the one trying to do right by her."

"But what if Dax talks?" someone asked.

Darian's jaw tightened.

"He won't."

Three thousand miles away, Dax St. James was already reading the headline.

And laughing.

"She's good," he muttered, tossing the phone onto the messy hotel bed.

The woman tangled in his sheets raised an eyebrow. "Something funny?"

He stood, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Oh, nothing," he said with a wolfish grin. "Just a ghost from Monaco."

He didn't tell her that when he zoomed in on the sonogram in Selina's hand, something twisted in his chest.

Because he remembered her.

And more than that-he remembered that night.

Too well.

Back in Paris, Selina walked through a silent park in oversized sunglasses, hoping no one recognized her. A voice called from behind.

"Careful. You're starting to look like someone famous."

She turned sharply. Darian stood beneath the oak tree, wearing black and secrets.

"You leaked the story," she said.

"I contained it," he corrected. "There's a difference."

"Why?"

"Because we're not dealing with just one life anymore. We're dealing with an empire. And if that child is blood, the whole world is going to care."

She hesitated, heart thudding. "So what now?"

He stepped closer. "Now, we make a deal."

Selina's voice was a whisper. "What kind of deal?"

"A contract," he said. "A home. Doctors. Discretion. And a payout so generous, you'll never have to chase roles or charm strangers ever again."

She blinked. "In exchange for what?"

Darian looked down at the sonogram she still held like armor.

"For silence. Until we know who the father is."

A breeze stirred the leaves. Selina's stomach turned again-not from nausea, but from the feeling that she was standing on the edge of something irreversible.

"You don't trust me," she said.

"I don't trust anyone," Darian replied. "Especially not women who play both sides."

Before she could reply, her phone buzzed again.

Unknown number.

She answered-and froze.

"Selina," came Dax's voice, low and sharp, "we need to talk. Alone."