The morning after the gala, Elena woke alone in the master bed, sheets cool and scented with champagne and sex. Sunlight poured through the windows, the city already roaring twenty-four hours into the new reality. Her body ached most sweetly: pussy tender from public claiming, ass throbbing faint from Victoria's strap-on under a thousand eyes, throat raw from Alexander's cock and her own screams broadcast across the gallery. Diamonds still circled her throat and wrists, the only thing she wore. She rolled onto her stomach, pressed her face into Alexander's pillow, and inhaled the lingering trace of his cologne mixed with the sharp bite of her own release.
A soft chime from the nightstand. Her phone, new notifications cascading endlessly.
NY Post: VOSS ORGY SHOCKS MANHATTAN ELITE
Page Six: WHO IS THE MYSTERY MAID TURNED MUSE?
TMZ: LIVE SEX SHOW AT $50M ART GALA – FULL VIDEO LEAKED
Twitter trending: #VossMuse #LiveInstallation #ElenaReyes
She scrolled, pulse kicking. Grainy clips already viral: her body bound on the chaise, Alexander's cock disappearing into her, squirting arcs catching the lights. Comments flooded: obscene, worshipful, jealous.
Footsteps. Alexander entered carrying a tray: coffee, croissants, and fresh strawberries. Shirtless, tux pants slung low. He set it down, climbed onto the bed, and pulled her into his lap.
"Morning, legend." Kissed her slowly, tasting sleep and sex.
She showed him the phone. He laughed low. "Let them talk. The bids hit forty-two million before midnight. Victoria's gallery is sold out for a year."
Victoria swept in next, robe open, hair wild triumph. "Darling, you're everywhere." She crawled across the bed, kissed Elena deeply, fingers sliding between her thighs to find her wet already. "Still ready. Good girl."
Julian last, hoodie rumpled, laptop under arm. He set it on the bed, opened a tab. "The heartbeat data is beautiful. Look."
Graph spiked red every time she came, the room lights synced perfectly. He blushed, but his eyes shone proud.
They fed her breakfast in bed, bites from fingers, licks from tongues. Hands gentle now, reverent. Alexander's thumb traced the diamond collar. "You were perfect."
But something shifted subtly in the air. A vibration not from the plug.
Victoria's phone buzzed on the dresser. She glanced, face tightening fractionally. Answered in French too fast for Elena to follow, then switched to English. "No comment. You'll hear from legal."
Hung up, smile brittle. "Tabloids offering seven figures for your backstory."
Alexander's jaw set. Julian looked suddenly young.
Elena felt the first hairline fracture. Not in love. In exposure.
The afternoon brought more. A courier delivered thick envelopes: cease-and-desist from Voss family lawyers, but also anonymous notes slipped under the penthouse door. Photos printed grainy: Elena years ago in lingerie, face younger, eyes harder. Escort ads circled in red.
Her stomach dropped.
Alexander took the photos, face thunder. "Old news. We handle this."
But Victoria's eyes flicked to Elena sharp, questioning. Julian stared at the floor.
The crack widened.
Evening. They gathered in the gallery, canvases now bearing price tags obscene. Elena stood before the centrepiece: her body mid-squirt, face contorted in ecstasy. She touched the canvas, felt the dried ridges of paint and released.
Alexander wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Doesn't matter what they dig up. You're ours."
Victoria joined, hand on Elena's cheek. "We knew pieces of your past. We love all of you."
Julian stepped close, took her hand. "You're not that girl anymore. You're... everything."
They made love slowly in front of the canvas, reclaiming. Alexander entered her gently, Victoria's tongue on her clit, Julian's cock in her mouth. No ropes, no audience. Just them. She came crying, not from pleasure alone.
Night deepened. Phones kept buzzing. A leaked video surfaced: Elena at nineteen, in a hotel room, with an older man's hands on her. Comments vicious.
Alexander smashed his phone against the wall. Victoria poured whiskey, hands shaking. Julian coded frantically, trying to scrub the web.
Elena stood on the terrace alone, city lights blurring through tears. Wind whipped her robe open, cold on skin that had been worshipped hours ago.
Alexander found her first, wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. "We'll sue. We'll buy the sites. We'll bury it."
She turned, eyes steady. "You can't bury who I was."
Victoria and Julian joined, circle closing protective.
Victoria spoke softly. "Then we own it. All of it. Your past is part of the art now."
Julian nodded. "I'm building a new site. Your story. On your terms."
Alexander pulled her close. "We protect what's ours."
They carried her inside, laid her on the bed. Made love again, slower, deeper. Tongues and fingers mapping every scar, every memory. She came whispering Thank you, tears mixing with release.
Sleep came tangled, phones silenced.
The first crack had appeared, but the foundation held.
They would rebuild stronger.
Or burn trying.