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> "Someone wants this story buried."
A leaked chapter. A sabotaged draft. And a lie that might shatter everything.
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The following week was perfect.
Which, of course, meant something was about to go horribly wrong.
Julian had started joining her for breakfast in the east garden. Casual things-black coffee for him, honey-laced tea for her. They shared books now. He let her sit in on meetings. He started answering her questions not just with facts-but feelings.
It wasn't a love story yet.
But it felt like the prelude.
And then, one afternoon, the glass shattered.
Alora was in the kitchen, taste-testing the lemon tarts she'd baked as a writing break, when she heard voices in the hallway. A woman's laughter-silky, confident, familiar.
She peeked through the entry arch just in time to see Julian walk in from the main house... followed closely by a woman in red heels, crimson lipstick, and the kind of smile that could slice diamonds.
Alora's stomach dropped.
"Elena," Julian said tightly, catching Alora's eye with a look that was both warning and apology. "This is Alora. She's... working with me."
The woman turned, eyes flicking over Alora like she was something disposable. "The writer, right? I read some of your blog. Cute."
Cute.
Alora smiled sweetly. "And you're the ex who turned heartbreak into a bestselling tabloid career, right? Iconic."
Julian choked on his drink.
Elena's smile never wavered. "You've got a spine. That'll be fun-until he finds a reason to shut you out too."
Alora's fingers clenched at her sides, but Julian stepped between them. "Elena, you said you needed to drop something off. You've done that. Now leave."
"Still so cold, Jules," Elena purred, brushing her fingers along the edge of his suit jacket. "Don't worry. I'm not here to fight. Just thought you should know-your board's been talking."
"About what?" he asked stiffly.
"About your sudden obsession with authenticity. And the messy little writer who's getting too close."
Alora's heart stopped.
Julian's eyes darkened. "You're bluffing."
"Am I?" Elena said, pulling out her phone and tapping the screen.
She held it up. A voice recording. Someone on a call with Julian's VP-mentioning delays in the company's public release of the memoir. Mentioning "outside influence." Mentioning her.
Julian's silence spoke volumes.
"You might want to be careful," Elena added, slipping her phone back into her designer bag. "People don't like when their billion-dollar brands start... unraveling."
With a wink and a flirty wave, she walked out-heels clicking like a final insult.
Julian stood frozen.
And Alora?
She felt it all at once.
Like a candle snuffed out.
"Why didn't you tell me she was still in your life?" she asked, voice tight.
"She's not. Not in any real way."
"But she has recordings. She knows about me. About this project."
Julian ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't know she was watching us that closely."
"You're Julian Vale," she said softly. "Everyone is watching."
He looked at her then-like he was trying to reach her across a gap neither of them knew how to close.
"I didn't want this to touch you," he admitted. "I wanted to protect you from it."
"But you can't," she said, her voice breaking. "You can't protect me from something I'm already inside."
He stepped forward. "Alora-"
"I need space," she whispered, stepping back.
The walls around them weren't cold this time.
They were burning.
And this time, it wasn't about coffee spills or piano lullabies.
It was about trust.
And whether the story they were writing was already turning into a tragedy.