Morning sunlight poured into the KingTech boardroom, but the air was far from bright.
The usual buzz of chatter and clicking keyboards had dulled to whispers. Everyone had seen it — the headline that hit every business news outlet at dawn.
> "From Scandal to Spotlight — Amelia Jones: The CEO's New Favorite?"
Underneath, a photo: Christopher and Amelia at the press conference.
The camera had caught the exact second his hand brushed hers — a moment innocent in reality, but twisted by the media into something else entirely.
By noon, hashtags were already trending.
#OfficeRomance #KingTechAffair #FromScandalToSeduction
Clara sat in her apartment, watching the chaos unfold with a shaky glass of champagne in her hand. She hadn't expected the story to blow up this fast — but Elena's influence ran deep, and her money even deeper.
The article had come from one of her family's controlled outlets.
The narrative was perfect — polished poison.
And Amelia Jones had just walked straight into it.
---
Meanwhile, Amelia stood outside KingTech headquarters, staring at the gleaming tower that reflected the city's skyline. Her reinstatement had come with a shocking surprise — a promotion letter.
The official memo stated:
> "Effective immediately, Ms. Amelia Jones will be reinstated as Head of Creative Development. Report directly to the CEO."
Her stomach knotted.
She'd barely begun to piece her life back together, and now — this?
Lydia's voice echoed in her head from last night's conversation.
"Girl, that's a blessing! Don't overthink it. You earned that job."
But Amelia's instincts whispered something else.
Something about this was… too convenient.
She took a deep breath and stepped through the glass doors.
---
Christopher was in his office when she arrived — tie loosened, sleeves rolled, that usual unreadable expression carved across his face.
But his eyes softened the second he saw her.
"Amelia," he said quietly. "You came."
She clutched her bag a little tighter. "You asked for me to report back. I'm here."
He motioned for her to sit. "I meant what I said at the press conference. You deserve your position back — and more."
Her eyes flicked toward the folder on his desk. "Then what's all this about?"
He hesitated, then slid the folder toward her. "Your reinstatement. The board approved your promotion this morning."
Amelia frowned, flipping through the pages — then froze.
Each document was flawless. Too flawless.
"Christopher," she said slowly, "why me? You have a dozen capable executives — people who'd kill for this position."
He met her gaze squarely. "Because no one understands innovation here like you do. You built half of our campaigns from scratch. You were loyal, even when we weren't."
Her heart thudded once, painfully. "So this is guilt?"
His expression faltered for a second, then hardened again. "No. This is correction."
"Correction," she echoed bitterly. "You think a new title erases what happened?"
"I think it's a start." His tone was calm, but there was an edge beneath it — frustration, maybe even regret. "You said you wanted a fair chance. I'm giving it to you."
Silence stretched between them.
The kind that said everything words couldn't.
Finally, she whispered, "I'll think about it."
He nodded once. "That's all I ask."
As she rose to leave, his voice stopped her.
"Amelia."
She turned.
He hesitated, then said softly, "You're stronger than most men I know. Don't let them take that from you again."
Her breath caught. For a second — just a second — she saw the man beneath the steel façade.
Then she turned and left, her heels echoing down the corridor like defiance.
---
Later that night, Lydia nearly dropped her phone when she saw the news.
"Amelia, what the hell is this?!" she exclaimed, thrusting her phone at her.
Amelia's name was splashed across every gossip blog:
> "Christopher King's Favorite Returns — Secret Affair or Corporate Favor?"
Her heart sank. "No. No, no, no — this isn't happening again."
Aunt Chloe frowned from the doorway. "You think this has something to do with that Moretti woman?"
Maya nodded grimly. "It smells like her perfume — sweet and deadly."
Lydia crossed her arms. "You're not going to stay quiet this time, Ames. They dragged your name once — you survived. But now you fight."
Amelia pressed her lips together, mind spinning. "No. I won't give them what they want. If I react, they win. If I stay calm — they expose themselves."
But deep down, she knew this wasn't just another smear campaign.
This was war.
---
At King Mansion, Christopher sat in his private study, phone lighting his face.
He scrolled through the articles, jaw clenched tight. Every headline was another knife to his control.
Mark entered quietly. "Sir, should I issue a press statement?"
"No." His voice was sharp. "Not yet."
"With all due respect," Mark said carefully, "if you don't control this narrative now, it'll spiral out of—"
"I said not yet," Christopher snapped, slamming his glass down. Then softer, "I'll handle it myself."
When Mark left, he leaned back and exhaled, rubbing his temple.
He'd tried to fix things — to give Amelia back what she deserved — and somehow, he'd just put a bigger target on her back.
He rose from his chair, walked to the window, and stared into the dark.
Lightning flickered in the distance again — faint, but growing.
He whispered into the silence, "They want a war? Fine. I'll give them one."
---
And across the city, Elena Moretti smiled at the breaking news, sipping her wine like victory itself.
"Checkmate," she murmured.
---