The morning after their quiet promise of unity was shattered by the cold knock of reality. News anchors chattered about Clair Johnson, flashing pictures of her walking alongside Austin, entering blacked-out SUVs, and leaving a private doctor's office. Every word, every frame, was dissected by the public like it was a scandalous soap opera. "Mob Wife," one headline read. "Queen of Crime or Victim of Love?" said another.
Austin sat in the command room, a wall of monitors displaying news feeds, social media updates, FBI movement, and surveillance from their trusted tech division. He wore a charcoal suit, crisp and commanding, but his jaw twitched with rage.
Elias paced behind him. "We traced the leak to someone inside Marcus's PR firm. He's already being interrogated."
"How much damage?" Austin asked.
"Enough. They're spinning Clair like she masterminded the connection. A nurse turned kingpin bride. Public sympathy is split. FBI's building momentum."
Austin's knuckles cracked as he gripped the edge of the desk. "They won't lay a finger on her. If I have to burn this city to the ground, I will."
Back in their suite, Clair sat by the windowsill, holding a cup of tea she hadn't touched. Her phone buzzed endlessly—messages from former coworkers, old friends, college roommates. Some offered support. Others spewed venom. She sighed and silenced it.
There was a soft knock before Austin entered.
"You saw it?" she asked.
He nodded. "I'll fix it."
"Not everything needs fixing. I'm stronger than they think. But the babies… they don't get to use our children against us."
His gaze softened as he approached. He knelt in front of her, pressing a kiss against her belly. "They won't. I'll make sure of it."
She lifted his chin. "We need a plan, Austin. A real one. Something bigger than retaliation. We need to expose them before they destroy us."
His eyes burned with agreement.
Later that day, Austin met with Elias and Marcus in the underground war room. Elias laid out a dossier.
"We bait Isadora. Make her think she's winning. Feed her controlled leaks. Let her get arrogant. Then we strike with evidence that ties her to the mole and a series of offshore accounts."
Marcus added, "We start a new media narrative, one where Clair's a hero, a woman who saved Austin from his own darkness. We leak charity work, the hospital stories, her upcoming maternal health initiative."
Austin smirked. "Turn the queen into a saint. I like it."
Meanwhile, Clair worked with Marcus's team, filming a video in her soft, confident tone. "I was never meant to live in a castle. I was a nurse with a heart for people. And I fell in love with a man who saw me... not my past, not the headlines. Just me."
The video went viral within hours.
But not everyone was convinced.
At midnight, a sleek black car stopped outside the Montgomery estate. A woman stepped out in red stilettos, her perfume so strong it practically announced her presence. Isadora, the venomous vixen from Austin's past, smirked as the gates opened.
She was invited.
In the main foyer, Austin waited with Elias. Clair stood beside them in an elegant black gown, her hand resting protectively over her bump.
"You're brave," Isadora said with a sly smile. "Or foolish."
"We're informed," Austin replied. "Which is more than I can say for your team."
Isadora's smile faltered just slightly.
"What do you want, really?" Clair asked.
"Control," Isadora said simply. "And maybe a little revenge."
Austin stepped forward. "You won't get either. This isn't the old world where you manipulate men with pretty lies. I know what you did. The accounts, the bribes, the leaks. You're done."
"You can't prove it."
Clair handed her a folder. "Actually, we can. And if you don't want this broadcasted on every screen in America, you'll back off. Now."
Isadora opened the folder, her face paling.
"This is war," she hissed.
"No," Austin said. "This is the end of it."
She stormed out, but they all knew it wouldn't be the last time she tried something.
Back in their bedroom, Austin pulled Clair close. "You were brilliant."
"I learned from the best."
"No," he whispered, kissing her neck, her collarbone, then her lips. "You are the best."
They sank into each other again, the tension of the day melting into slow, deliberate passion. Every kiss felt like an apology for what they'd endured, and a promise for what was coming.
And somewhere deep inside her, Clair felt it. A second heartbeat. Not just the baby. A stirring, a shift. A spark of something that wasn't planned.
But she said nothing.
Not yet.
Because love was a war worth winning. And tomorrow, they'd fight again.