ELLE'S POV
The noise outside hasn't stopped since morning.
Two news vans sit across the street. A handful of reporters lean against their cars, cameras aimed at the orphanage gates. They've been there since sunrise, waiting.
Inside, the air smells like paint and breakfast. The kids don't understand what's happening; they only know the adults look tense.
I kneel beside Mia, helping her fix her doll's broken arm. "Don't worry, sunshine. She'll be good as new."
Mia grins. "You're always fixing things."
"Someone has to," I whisper, and force a smile.
But my hands are shaking.
Every headline I scroll through on my phone makes my stomach twist tighter.
WHO IS ELLE MORGAN?
AUTHOR OR ACTRESS OR IMPOSTOR?
THE FIANCÉE WITH NO PAST.
They think it's gossip. But I know who did this.
And she's shown me how far she's willing to go.
I lock my phone and look out the window. The gates are still lined with cameras. Then my phone vibrates again. Camila. I wasn't ready to talk about this so I decided to text her to let her know I'm fine and safe. Just as I hit send, my phone vibrates again. A blocked call.
I hesitate, then answer.
"You shouldn't be calling me," I say before I even hear her voice.
A slow, weary sigh comes through the line. "And yet, here I am."
My chest tightens. The voice, no mistaking it. "Mother."
"It's spiralling," she says, calm and controlled, that familiar tone she always uses when chaos surrounds her. "Stay off the news. No interviews. No posts. Let it blow over."
I pace the room, nails digging into my palms. "You think I don't know that? We both know who's behind this. Are you going to handle her or should I?"
"Don't create more mess. All you can do is is keep doing what you've always done; survive," she snaps. "You built that foundation with my money. Don't make me regret it."
Her words slice through me. Always her money. Always her control.
"I never asked for it." I say quietly.
"No," she replies sharp. "But you needed it. And you still do. I'll keep backing whatever reckless thing you chase until you finally come for what's yours."
There's a pause, long enough for the truth to sting.
"Keep your team quiet. Especially... that man you're currently sleeping with. 'Fiancée indeed'," she sneers. "And for God's sake, Seraphina… don't make me clean up another mess for again."
She hangs up before I can respond.
I stand frozen, the phone pressed to my ear. "The man I'm sleeping with? Seriously? Gosh."
My heart pounds, speaking to mother always sends me over the edge. I turn toward the door just as one of the older volunteers rushes in.
"Miss Elle, there's someone outside asking to pass through."
"Tell them we're closed to visitors today."
The girl swallows hard. "It's your fiancé."
My chest tightens. "Of course it is."
The sound of car doors slamming reaches me through the window.
I don't even need to look to know it's him. Damian moves like the world bends around him. Even with reporters blocking the street, they instinctively part as he approaches, security flanking him in perfect sync.
I stay by the upstairs window, studying him. His expression is controlled, but I can see the anger simmering just beneath the surface.
When he enters the foyer, the atmosphere shifts. The volunteers scatter without a word as I meet him halfway.
"What's going on?" His voice cuts through the room, sharp and commanding. "And why did you leave your house alone? We should be presenting a united front!"
"Don't." My reply is sharper than I mean. "You shouldn't even be here. I'm sure you know who did this. Why does your uncle have it out for me?"
He takes a step closer. "You think this is just about Harrison? You can't just disappear while my name is dragged through every headline!"
"I knew it," I mutter. "Tangling with people like you never ends well."
"Too late for that," He glances toward the kids' wing, then back at me. " We need to calm the press before this blows any bigger. We'll use the foundation to shift focus; those children can bring sympathy to both of us."
My arms fold across my chest. "Not my babies. They're not your PR shield."
"Then you have another plan?" he asks, voice low but firm, eyes burning into me.
I stay quiet.
"In the absence of one," he says, rolling his eyes, "we stick to mine. My company's stock is bleeding, Elle. This isn't a negotiation."
"Fine," I say finally, voice flat. "But we'll do it my way."
I turn and lead him down the hall toward my office.
I close the door behind us. "I'll explain what we'll say, how we'll handle this. But..."
He cuts me off, his tone cold and furious. "After this, you're telling me everything. Seraphina Carrington."
The name hits me like a punch. It doesn't belong here. Not anymore.
For a moment, the room tilts. I want to throw up but I force myself to stay upright. My fingers grip the edge of the desk just to ground myself.
"Of course you went digging," I say finally, my voice steady though my pulse isn't.
"I had to," he replies, calm but cold. "I need to know who I'm dealing with."
I let out a short, bitter laugh. "That's what men like you do. When you want control, you dig until you find something you can use."
His eyes narrow. "Is that what you think this is? Control?"
"I think you're terrified of anything you can't predict," I shoot back. "And now you've realized I don't fit into your perfect little boxes."
He takes a closer step, voice dropping. "Then explain the sealed record. The relocation order, the name change. What were you running from, Seraphina? Is this revenge… or something else?"
The room seems to shrink around us. I hold his stare and manage a tight, controlled smile. "I doubt you'd take me seriously if I tried to explain."
"Try me," he says quietly.
Something inside me twists, but I stand firm. I take a slow breath. "You want answers? Fine. You'll get them but only after we fix the chaos your uncle stirred up. Until then, stop interrogating me and trust my lead. We have a press storm to handle."
He studies me for a long moment, unreadable, then nods once. Just as he's about to speak, his phone buzzes.
He glances at it, and the color drains from his face.
"What is it?" I ask.
He doesn't answer immediately, staring at the screen as if it's showing him something impossible.
Then, quietly... "They've called an emergency board vote. Tonight."
I freeze. "For what?"
"To remove me." His voice is low, but the crack beneath it is real. "Harrison must've pushed it through."
He starts pacing, already dialing someone. "Get me Langford. Now."
A pause.
"What do you mean he's not in? He's never not in."
He hangs up hard, gnashing his teeth.
I watch him pace. The unshakable CEO is cracking. Just a little. It's unsettling to see.
"So," I say quietly, "this is what he wanted."
He looks up. "What are you talking about?"
"Me. My past. The scandal. It's perfect. He's using me to make you look incompetent. The engagement, the fake records, he's using me as leverage."
He doesn't argue. That's how I know I'm getting through to him.
He drops into the chair across from me, elbows resting on his knees, his mind already racing. "They think I've been compromised."
"You have," I admit before I can stop myself.
His eyes snap to mine, sharp. "Watch it."
"I'm being honest," I say steadily. "You've built your empire on control. And now the board sees the one thing you can't control—me. That unsettles them."
He studies me, eyes narrowing, as if trying to read every thought. "You sound like you've handled situations like this before."
I lean in. "If you want to keep your company, I can help."
He lets out a short, humorless laugh. "You really think I'd take advice from someone whose life is being investigated?"
"You don't have a choice," I say flatly. "If the board votes tonight, you'll be out by morning. But if we handle this right, we can turn it around."
He narrows his eyes. "How?"
"We tell them we're expecting a baby."
The room goes quiet.
"You're joking."
"I'm sorry Damian, but I'm not."
"That's extreme, Elle. What if people start asking questions later?"
"They won't have to wait that long," I say. "The story will overshadow the scandal. Once it serves its purpose, we can say the pregnancy didn't work out."
He stares at me like I just hit him. "That's..."
"Deliberate," I cut in. "Like everything else you do. You know it will get results."
He stands, folding his arms. "And what exactly do you get out of this?"
I meet his gaze without flinching. "You'll finance the full expansion of Little Lights Home. A new wing, a new medical center. My name stays clean; no leaks, no threats from your uncle. You handle that, I handle the rest."
His jaw flexes. "You're asking me to fake fatherhood and finance your foundation."
"I'm asking you to survive," I say simply.
The room goes quiet again. He studies me for a long moment, like he's torn between admiration and fury. Then, slowly, a faint smile curves his mouth.
"You're dangerous."
I shrug. "Takes one to know one."
He adjusts his cufflinks, the cold calm returning to his face. "Fine. Let's go make the world believe a lie."