Chapter 9 The Firestorm

The morning light crept into the bedroom like a quiet confession.

Elena stirred slowly, her eyes blinking open to a world that didn't feel like hers. It wasn't the soft glow on the floor-to-ceiling windows or the sprawling skyline view beyond the glass. It wasn't the scent of espresso or the way satin sheets clung to her bare skin. It was him.

Grayson Maddox.

He lay beside her, half-asleep, one arm draped across her waist. His hair was messy, his jaw rough with morning stubble. And he looked... peaceful. Not like the man on magazine covers or on business panels. Not like the storm she'd met weeks ago in a boardroom. But like someone who had finally stopped running - even if just for one night.

Elena rolled onto her side, brushing a finger along his collarbone, lightly tracing the scar she'd kissed hours earlier. He didn't stir. He just breathed - slow, steady, and vulnerable.

A part of her wanted to stay in that moment forever.

But reality wasn't sentimental.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Once. Then again. Then five times in a row.

Elena groaned and reached for it, careful not to wake Grayson. She turned the screen over - and froze.

20 unread messages.

12 missed calls.

3 news alerts.

The first text was from Lauren.

Lauren: "What the hell is going on?? You're trending everywhere."

The second was from a PR intern at Maddox Foundation.

Mia, PR: "Please call ASAP. Emergency. Gala guest list and personal emails have been leaked."

The third was from Derek.

Derek: "Told you he'd screw you over. Hope you have a backup plan."

Elena sat bolt upright, clutching the phone in both hands. Her chest tightened as she opened the news alert.

HEADLINE:

"EXCLUSIVE: Leaked Gala Files Reveal CEO's 'Romantic Interest' Among High-Profile Guests"

By: Kristen Vale, NYE Today

There it was - her name. In bold. In the second paragraph. Tied directly to Grayson.

The article speculated on their relationship, referencing her involvement in the planning committee and including phrases like "inappropriate entanglement," "favoritism," and "conflict of interest." Worse, it linked her to old rumors about her resignation from Wexler & Co.

And at the bottom of the page - screenshots.

Private seating charts.

Internal emails.

Notes that only someone close to her could have accessed.

Her stomach dropped.

"Damn it," she muttered, and that was when Grayson stirred.

He sat up slowly, squinting at her. "What's wrong?"

She handed him the phone without a word.

As he read, his expression darkened. The lines in his face returned - not the tired ones, but the hardened ones. The CEO lines. The ones that looked like walls.

When he finally looked up, his jaw was tight. "Who leaked it?"

"I don't know," she said softly. "But they made it personal."

Grayson swung his legs over the bed and stood, reaching for his phone.

"I'll call Natalie," he said. "Have legal start issuing takedown notices and NDAs. Damage control needs to begin now."

Elena watched him pace across the room, phone to ear, already barking quiet orders. His voice was calm but lethal. Sharp. Executive.

And just like that, the warmth between them turned cold.

Thirty minutes later, they were in the living room. Elena had dressed quickly in yesterday's clothes and tied her hair into a low bun. Grayson stood near the window, phone pressed to his ear, while Elena read through more alerts.

Lauren had sent screenshots of Twitter, where she was trending under #GalaGate and #GraysonMaddoxAffair.

There were memes. GIFs. Armchair investigators who had pulled pictures of her from LinkedIn, her old law firm, even a beach photo from her private Facebook.

"I don't understand how they got access to the internal files," Elena said, voice tight with panic. "Those folders were password protected. Encrypted."

Grayson hung up his call and turned to her.

"Only four people had access," he said grimly. "You, me, Natalie, and Derek."

Her chest went still. "Derek?"

"He still had access to the main drive," Grayson said. "We never fully removed him. And he's the only one with a motive to throw you under the bus."

Elena swallowed the lump in her throat.

"He always said the foundation was a game of power," she murmured. "And I was just another pawn."

Grayson stepped closer. "This is my fault. I let him stay in the loop longer than I should've. I was trying to be... diplomatic."

"You were trying to protect the company," Elena said. "I get it."

"But I didn't protect you."

The words hung in the air.

She looked away, jaw tight. "This is going to destroy my name again. Wexler wasn't even this bad. At least that scandal never hit tabloids."

Grayson's gaze softened. "Then we fight it. Together."

She looked at him sharply. "Are you sure? Because your board is going to call a meeting. They'll want someone to blame. Someone to sacrifice."

"Let them," he said firmly. "They don't get to dictate who I care about."

Her heart clenched - a strange mix of hope and dread.

"You say that now," she whispered, "but what happens when the investors start pulling out? When the gala sponsors drop? When the media won't let this go?"

Grayson stepped forward, placing both hands on her arms.

"I don't care."

She stared at him. "You should."

He exhaled slowly, frustration radiating off him like heat.

"Elena... I spent years being careful. Guarded. Cold. I sacrificed everything human about me just to stay in control. But I'm tired. And for once, I want to choose people over performance."

A pause.

"You. I want to choose you."

Her throat tightened. She reached up and gently touched his jaw.

But before she could speak, another phone rang.

Grayson's desk phone.

Only two people had that number: his head of legal and Natalie.

He picked it up.

"Maddox."

A beat.

His brows furrowed. Then his face turned pale.

"What do you mean there's more?"

Elena's heart skipped.

Grayson's knuckles whitened on the receiver. "Who authorized that email? What time was it sent?"

He looked at Elena.

His voice dropped. "She was here all night. That wasn't her."

Another beat.

"I need the footage. Full server logs. No one gets in or out of that cloud until I say so."

He hung up slowly.

Elena stood frozen. "What happened?"

Grayson walked over and pulled up an email on his laptop.

Someone had sent a follow-up message from her official foundation email address - an angry rant accusing certain staff members of "mismanaging funds" and "playing favorites," while implying her relationship with Grayson was "already intimate."

Elena's jaw dropped. "I didn't write that."

"I know," he said. "But the media doesn't."

Her stomach turned.

"This was a setup," she whispered.

"Someone wants to burn you - and possibly me - to the ground," he said.

There was a long silence.

Finally, Elena looked at him with tear-filled eyes.

"I think I need to step away from the gala planning."

"No."

"Grayson, it's too dangerous. Every move I make now can be twisted. It's better for everyone if I-"

"I won't let them scare you out of your life," he said. "You don't owe the mob your silence."

"I owe myself a future," she said softly. "And I can't build it while being dragged through scandal after scandal."

He stepped closer, voice low. "Then let's clear your name. Together."

She hesitated.

Then nodded.

But neither of them realized that the storm had only just begun.