(They thought they knew her. They thought they could break her. But Ava Sinclair has learned the art of being untouchable.)
Los Angeles. Days After the Press Conference.
The world still buzzed with the leak, the scandal, the whispers.
But Ava Sinclair—she wasn't just a subject of gossip anymore.
She was the crown now.
Her schedule was packed:
Board meetings with the film studio heads.
Photoshoots that were more political than artistic.
Interviews where they'd once seen vulnerability, now saw steel.
They asked her about the scandal. She smiled, unbothered.
Reporter: "So, Ava… how do you feel about the sex tape leak?"
Ava: "I think I need better lighting next time." She laughed softly. "Maybe a producer in the back, too, for extra effect."
The cameras froze. The audience was unsure whether she was joking or dishing out dark sarcasm.
She wasn't joking.
Ava Sinclair was still the goddess they adored—
But now, she wore her scandal like a couture gown.
She was untouchable, her power so visible that they couldn't break her.
They could only envy what she had built—and fear it.
Later That Evening.
Ava stood at a red velvet door, her fingers brushing the cold metal handle. Behind her, the flash of a car's headlights caught the sheen of her gown. Tonight, she was different.
The media may have thought she was unraveling—
But they'd never see the threads she was weaving.
She entered the private lounge with a steady pace, her heels clicking on the marble floor. As soon as the door shut behind her, she knew Damien would be waiting.
He always was.
He stood in the shadows, watching her, his lips curving slightly. His eyes—hard, calculating, dark.
"Back again?" he asked, his voice deeper than before. "I didn't think you'd show up after your grand speech."
Ava smirked, walking toward him, not bothering to be subtle.
"You were wrong," she said, eyes sharp, "I don't crawl back to anyone. But you? You've been playing with the wrong woman, Damien. Was it fun? Taping me, ruining me, leaking it for your little game?"
Her words hit him like a blade.
But she didn't flinch. She had nothing left to fear from him.
He stepped closer, his face unreadable. "I didn't ruin you. I made you more."
She laughed, but there was no warmth in it. "Don't flatter yourself. The only thing you ever made was a monster out of a woman who's been playing your game the whole time."
For the first time in weeks, Damien looked surprised.
He didn't move to kiss her.
He didn't reach for her.
Instead, he studied her, like he was seeing her anew.
"You think you're in control?" he asked quietly.
Ava's eyes never left his, her voice even, "I know I am."
Hours Later.
Ava walked out of the lounge, the weight of her words still lingering in the air.
As soon as the door closed behind her, she didn't wait for the flashes of cameras.
Tonight, she wasn't Ava Sinclair the goddess.
She was just a woman—a woman who had learned to use the fame to play them all.
She walked down the steps of the building with confidence. There was a waiting car outside, and a figure was standing near it.
It wasn't Damien.
Instead, it was an escort—a handsome man, his smile charming but empty. He was there for the show, the performance, the media.
Ava smiled coolly. She slid into the car beside him, but her mind was already elsewhere.
She knew Damien would be watching. He would think she was falling into his trap.
But this was her trap. She had turned the game on him. And the world would buy it.
The Hidden Darkness.
As the car sped through the city, Ava's phone buzzed with a text.
An unknown number.
You think you're untouchable. But there's something even darker waiting in the wings.
She didn't respond. She didn't need to.
Her past, the one she'd thought buried, was starting to resurface.
Her mother.
The symbol.
And Project Halo.
Her mind flashed back to the photo from before—the one with the halo symbol.
There were things about her past Damien didn't even know.
Things that would haunt him just as much as it haunted her.
Ava leaned back in the seat, the darkness of the city reflected in her eyes.
She wasn't running from Damien anymore.
She was playing a game he couldn't win.
Cliffhanger:
As she entered her penthouse and the escort left, Ava stood by her window, staring out at the lights below.
Suddenly, she froze.
There was a figure standing across the street, watching her window.
Damien.
And this time, he wasn't just watching. He was waiting.
The game was far from over.