By morning, the story had already shifted from gossip to full-blown scandal.
Phones buzzed. News banners ran. Tweets flew. Rumors spread faster than anyone could breathe.
Wexler Caught in Quiet Moment With Mystery Woman at Press Event wasn't just a headline anymore—it was the headline.
Scarlett sat motionless at the edge of the couch, knees tucked under her, tea cooling in her hands. Across the room, Sadie paced with her phone, flipping between headlines, press quotes, and the photos that had flooded in overnight.
The image had already made it to at least ten gossip blogs and two mainstream news outlets.
Scarlett's face was blurred.
But not blurred enough.
People were already trying to identify her by her long brown hair, the cut of her black dress, even the bracelet on her wrist.
Comments flooded every post:
"Anyone recognize this woman?"
"She works with Camille's team, right?"
"Zentium's about to turn this scandal into a campaign. Just watch."
Scarlett's throat tightened with every scroll.
It was supposed to be a small mistake.
A moment.
But now it was everywhere.
And she couldn't stop it.
Zenthium's social team made no comment. But by 10 a.m., business outlets were reporting that the company's stock had risen by 3.2% overnight.
Scarlett stared at the headline:
Wexler in the News, Zenthium on the Rise
It felt like a punch.
Brian kissed her.
The press ate it up.
And the world rewarded him for it.
Camille's phone had been ringing nonstop since 7 a.m.—press requests, brand offers, magazine exclusives. Her stylist texted three times, begging for a statement. Her assistant had sent over a full media breakdown before breakfast.
Scarlett hadn't spoken to her yet.
She wasn't sure if Camille had seen the photo.
Not clearly.
Not yet.
Sadie stood in front of the window, arms crossed. "You haven't said anything."
Scarlett looked up.
"What do you want me to say?" she asked quietly.
Sadie didn't answer right away.
"I don't know. Something."
Scarlett looked back at her tea.
Still untouched.
Camille called just after noon.
Sadie's phone rang first, then Scarlett's. Neither of them answered.
Five minutes later, a text came through:
Camille: Hey. Everything's insane. Can we meet at the studio later today? Need to breathe.
Scarlett's stomach dropped.
Sadie glanced over. "You gonna go?"
"She didn't say anything about the photo."
"Doesn't mean she hasn't seen it."
Scarlett nodded slowly. "I'll go."
Sadie didn't push.
But her silence said everything.
By 2:30, Scarlett was in the studio.
Alone.
The room was quiet. Too quiet. The worktable was still cluttered from before the event—pins, sketches, swatches. She hadn't touched anything since the press day.
The dress still hung on the rack in the corner. It looked too clean now. Too proud. Like it didn't know what it had walked into.
Scarlett sat on the edge of the table and pulled her hair up into a knot.
The mirror caught her reflection.
She looked tired.
And underneath it, scared.
The door opened at 3:04 p.m.
Camille walked in wearing sunglasses and holding an iced latte like it was armor.
She took one look at Scarlett and exhaled. "Thank God. I needed to get out of the house."
Scarlett stood. "Hey."
Camille pulled her into a hug. Tight. Sincere.
Then she laughed. "Have you seen the chaos?"
Scarlett blinked. "You mean...?"
Camille pulled off her sunglasses. "The kiss. The post. The fact that I've been trending all day."
She tossed her bag down. "People are acting like this is some kind of celebrity scandal. And I'm like, have we all forgotten I'm not actually famous?"
Scarlett's voice caught. "You've seen it?"
"Of course I've seen it," Camille said. "You can't even open your phone without seeing it."
Scarlett's stomach flipped. "So you... know?"
Camille raised a brow. "That someone kissed Brian? Yeah. The photo's everywhere."
She sat on a stool, sipping her latte. "They blurred the girl, though. Thank God. Can you imagine if she was recognizable? I'd feel awful for her."
Scarlett nodded slowly.
Very slowly.
Camille kept talking.
"She's probably part of the team or something. You can tell by the way she's dressed professional, but not press."
Scarlett stayed still.
Silent.
Camille didn't notice.
"I mean, it sucks. But it's also helped me, weirdly. I got a call this morning from LuxeStyle asking for an exclusive on the dress. And we haven't even posted the final shots yet!"
Scarlett stared at the dress in the corner.
It didn't feel like a win.
Camille finally looked at her.
"You okay? You're quiet."
Scarlett nodded again. "Just tired."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
Camille didn't push.
She smiled, soft. "You did amazing, Scar. The dress... the energy... everything."
Scarlett nodded.
"Thanks."
But her hands had curled into fists.
And her throat was dry.
After Camille left, the silence in the studio returned like a wave.
Scarlett stayed for another hour.
Just sitting.
Thinking.
Trying not to.
She didn't cry.
But she didn't move either.
When she got home, Sadie was in the kitchen, heating soup.
She looked over when Scarlett walked in.
"Well?" she asked, not unkindly. Just curious.
Scarlett dropped her keys on the counter and sank into a chair. "She's seen the photo."
Sadie tilted her head. "And?"
"She brought it up like it wasn't a big deal. Said the girl was probably someone from the team."
Sadie's brows lifted slightly. "Did she guess who?"
"No." Scarlett shook her head. "She said the face was blurred. That she felt bad for her."
Sadie stirred the soup slowly. "Did you ask if she recognized anyone?"
"I asked if she knew who it was." Scarlett looked down at her hands. "She said she didn't."
A pause.
Sadie turned off the stove and leaned against the counter. "Think she really doesn't know?"
Scarlett hesitated. "She doesn't seem to."
Another beat of silence.
Sadie exhaled. "Weird."
"What is?"
"You," Sadie said gently. "I don't know. You've just been... off since the event."
Scarlett didn't respond right away. "It's been a long week."
Sadie nodded, letting it go. "I get that."
She poured the soup into two bowls and slid one in front of Scarlett.
Scarlett murmured, "Thanks."
Sadie sat across from her, quiet for a moment. Then, casually, "So... you don't think Camille's going to look into it more?"
Scarlett shrugged. "I don't know. She's caught up in the press. The attention. She's not really thinking about the girl in the photo."
Sadie leaned back. "Well. That's good, right?"
Scarlett forced a smile. "Yeah."
Sadie studied her for a second, then let her eyes drop to her soup.
Neither of them said anything else for a while.
The silence didn't accuse.
But it didn't comfort, either.
Later that night, Scarlett sat on her bed, scrolling through social media.
She wasn't tagged.
But people were asking.
Screenshots of the blurred photo. Threads of comments about who it might be. Some thought it was a stylist. Others guessed it was someone from Camille's PR circle. A few even zoomed in on the bracelet.
One user posted:
"Look at the hand. She's wearing a silver ring. Find out who on Camille's team wears that and we've got her."
Scarlett's hand tightened into a fist.
She didn't even remember she'd worn that ring.
By midnight, Zenthium had posted a vague PR statement:
"Mr. Wexler remains fully committed to his engagement. We appreciate the support and interest in our brand, and we ask for privacy for the parties involved."
Scarlett stared at the screen.
No denial.
Just silence.
Carefully crafted.
Strategic.
Zenthium's stock rose another 1.8% before markets closed.
She locked her phone and dropped it face-down.
Then pulled the blanket over her head.