Chapter 10 Distance and damage

The headlines hadn't stopped.

By the end of the week, Elena's name had appeared in over fifty digital publications, countless gossip blogs, and even a segment on Good Morning New York. Her face - polished and smiling from an old LinkedIn photo - became the icon for the scandal they were now calling The Maddox Affair.

Grayson's team had worked round the clock to issue statements, but nothing stuck. The damage was done, and the media sharks wanted blood. The foundation's board was livid, the sponsors were jumpy, and worst of all - Elena had become a symbol. Not a woman. Not a professional. Just a headline.

She had become invisible beneath the noise.

And it was slowly destroying her.

Elena stood on the balcony of her Brooklyn apartment, wrapped in an oversized sweater, her phone sitting face-down on the table beside her. She hadn't checked it all day. The last time she had, someone had messaged her on Instagram saying she "slept her way to the top."

It had been a week since she stepped back from the gala.

Seven days since she told Grayson they needed space.

And four days since she'd last heard his voice.

She closed her eyes against the wind. Everything felt raw - her pride, her name, her heart.

Behind her, Lauren stepped out with two mugs of coffee.

"I brought the good stuff," she said softly. "Hazelnut and oat milk."

Elena smiled faintly. "You always know how to bribe me."

They sat in silence for a moment.

Lauren sipped. "He's been asking about you."

"I figured."

"He told the board you had nothing to do with the leak. He defended you like a damn gladiator. Even threatened to pull the entire gala if they didn't stop dragging your name."

Elena looked down at her mug. "That's not going to undo what's already happened."

"No, but it's something."

"It's not enough."

Lauren turned to her, eyes searching. "Then what is?"

Elena exhaled slowly. "I don't know. I just know I can't breathe with the whole world watching me choke."

Lauren reached out, squeezing her hand. "Then don't let them write your story. You're still Elena Sinclair. Still brilliant. Still the woman who walked into the Maddox Foundation and rewrote their entire event structure in two weeks."

"That woman's in hiding right now," Elena murmured.

"Well," Lauren said, standing, "it's time she came back."

Across the city, Grayson was anything but composed.

He stood in his office, jaw tight, tie loosened, phone clutched in one hand. Natalie sat across from him, tablet in hand, updating him on the latest fallout.

"We lost two more sponsors this morning. Harvardon Bank and Miles Media. Both pulled out citing 'reputational risk.'"

"Replace them," he snapped.

"Already working on it. But the bigger problem is the board. They want to vote on scaling the gala back entirely. No red carpet, no press, no keynote speech."

Grayson's voice went low. "They want to kill the story by killing the event."

Natalie nodded. "And by removing you - and Elena - from the spotlight."

He turned to the window, fists clenched.

"I won't let them erase her."

"You may not have a choice. The Foundation exists because of its donors. They don't care about your love life, Grayson. They care about optics."

He turned sharply. "She's not my 'love life.' She's not some scandal. She's the best thing that's happened to this Foundation in years - and she's the best thing that's happened to me."

Natalie didn't flinch. "Then fight for her."

"I tried."

"Try harder."

Grayson stared at her. "She won't even answer my calls."

"Then show up."

"She asked for space."

"She also asked for truth. Don't confuse silence with surrender."

Grayson didn't speak for a long time.

When he finally did, his voice cracked. "I'm scared I already lost her."

Natalie rose. "Then don't just say it. Prove otherwise."

Elena sat at her desk late that night, flipping through a folder of old résumés.

She hadn't meant to revisit the past - but maybe the past was all she had left. If she couldn't show her face in Manhattan without being labeled a homewrecker or a fraud, maybe it was time to go somewhere else entirely. Chicago, maybe. Or Boston. Somewhere where no one cared who she had kissed.

Her laptop chimed with a new email.

Subject: URGENT - You've Been Set Up

From: Anonymous

She hesitated.

Opened it.

"They wanted you gone long before the gala.

Someone inside the Foundation leaked the files - not Derek.

Check the login metadata from Friday, 2:13 a.m.

The IP address matches an internal proxy only used by Natalie Kane."

Elena blinked.

Natalie?

No. It couldn't be.

Natalie had stood by Grayson for years. She'd been cool, calculating, yes - but loyal. Coldly loyal. What would she have to gain from framing Elena?

Unless... unless loyalty to Grayson meant eliminating what distracted him.

Elena barely slept.

The anonymous email haunted her all night. She kept opening and closing it, rereading every line, searching for a clue. Something that screamed fake. But it looked real. Too real.

She didn't want to believe it. But her gut, sharp as ever, whispered otherwise.

By morning, she had made up her mind. She called Grayson.

To her surprise, he answered on the first ring.

"Elena." His voice sounded like he hadn't slept either.

"We need to talk," she said. "In person."

Silence.

Then: "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Grayson arrived dressed in black slacks and a deep navy shirt, his face drawn, eyes tired. Elena let him in without speaking. She wore jeans, no makeup, and a white T-shirt. Her confidence, though bruised, was still visible in the straightness of her posture.

They sat across from each other in the small living room, tension thick enough to choke on.

"I got this last night," she said, handing him a printed copy of the email. "Read it."

He did. Slowly. Twice.

His jaw tightened as he reached the last line.

"You think Natalie did this?" he asked.

"I don't want to," she said quietly. "But it explains too much. How fast the story spread. The timing. The board's sudden shift against me. And if what this says is true, the leak came from inside."

He leaned back, the weight of betrayal beginning to sink in. "She's been with me for seven years."

"And that's exactly why she'd feel entitled to control who you let in," Elena replied. "I'm not part of her plan for you."

He closed his eyes, as if trying to process a different reality than the one he thought he'd mastered.

"She told me you were a distraction," he whispered.

Elena's breath caught. "When?"

"Two days ago. She said I needed to choose between stability and... infatuation."

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Infatuation?"

"That's what she called you."

"I gave up everything to protect your damn name," she said, standing. "And I stayed silent while they buried mine."

He rose too. "I never asked you to do that."

"But you didn't stop it either."

The words hit like a slap.

He looked wounded. "I fought for you."

"You didn't fight loud enough."

Silence.

A long one.

Then, softly: "Do you want to see the Foundation go down just to prove a point?"

"No," she said. "But I won't let it destroy me either."

Grayson walked to the window. The rain had begun again, soft and rhythmic, as if the sky was mourning what they couldn't say aloud.

"What do you want, Elena?"

She stared at him, her voice trembling but clear. "I want the truth. I want you to confront her. I want you to defend me not just behind boardroom doors but out there."

He turned to her, something raw in his expression. "And if I do?"

"Then maybe I'll believe you didn't just fall in love with the idea of me."

Later that afternoon, Grayson stood in the conference room at the Foundation headquarters. Natalie was waiting for him, poised as ever, wearing her sleek gray blazer and an unreadable expression.

"You called an emergency meeting?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He tossed the printed email on the table.

Her face didn't change.

"What is this?" she asked coolly.

"You tell me."

"Anonymous sources? Please. I expected more from you."

"You leaked the files, Natalie. You sabotaged Elena."

"I protected you," she said sharply. "She was turning you into someone distracted, emotional, reckless. You've been losing focus ever since she walked in."

"She made me human. That's not a flaw."

"She was going to take everything from you."

"She gave me everything."

Her jaw twitched, the first sign of real emotion cracking through. "You built this Foundation. You're the legacy. Don't throw it away on a fling."

"She's not a fling."

Grayson stepped closer, voice low and fierce. "You made a choice without me. You crossed a line."

Natalie stood her ground. "You've changed. I was trying to bring you back."

"Maybe I don't want to go back."

Silence stretched between them like a final goodbye.

"You're fired," he said.

Natalie flinched - not dramatically, but enough. Seven years erased in three words.

"You'll regret this," she said quietly.

"I already regret not seeing it sooner."

That evening, the Foundation issued a formal statement. Grayson wrote it himself. It was direct, unapologetic, and public.

"A recent data breach that caused reputational harm to a member of our planning committee was the result of internal misconduct. That individual has been removed. The Foundation does not tolerate sabotage, harassment, or the manipulation of press narratives. We will protect the integrity of our team, no matter who stands in the way."

It made headlines within the hour.

And for the first time in over a week, Elena's name wasn't trending with venom.

It was trending with vindication.

Two days later, Grayson showed up at Elena's door again.

She was packing - not to leave the city, but to leave her apartment. She'd decided to finally move into something bigger, something that didn't feel like hiding. She didn't hear the doorbell at first over the sound of music.

But when she opened the door, he was there - with takeout in one hand, and a small jewelry box in the other.

"No rings," he said quickly. "Don't panic. It's just a gift."

She smirked. "I wasn't panicking."

"You were absolutely panicking."

She let him in, and they sat on the floor surrounded by boxes.

He handed her the box.

Inside was a small gold bracelet, delicate and simple, engraved with one word:

"Resilient."

She blinked.

"I wanted to give you something that reminded you who you are," he said. "Not who they tried to paint you as."

She looked up at him, throat tight. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to."

They sat in silence, the soft light of the apartment flickering against half-packed shelves.

"I miss you," he said quietly.

"I'm right here," she replied.

"No, I mean... I miss us. The way we were before all the noise."

"We can't go back to before."

"I know."

"But maybe we can figure out what comes next."

He reached for her hand. "I'd like that."

"Me too."

That night, they sat cross-legged on the floor, eating Chinese food out of cartons, talking about everything and nothing. And for the first time in weeks, Elena laughed - not because she needed to, but because she could.

The world might still be watching.

But for now, beneath the city lights and the smell of sesame noodles, they were just two people trying to love each other better.

And that was enough.

Elena stood up, blood rushing to her head.

Was she fighting the wrong enemy all along?