Arnold stood at the window of his office, eyes fixed on the jagged skyline but not really seeing it.
Behind him, Henry entered quietly, tablet in hand.
Arnold didn't turn. "Update me."
Henry hesitated. He hated being the bearer of bad news—especially when it involved her.
"It's bad," he said finally. "The press won't let go of it. They're like wolves right now."
Arnold turned his head slightly. "And Freya?"
Henry exhaled slowly. "She hasn't left her apartment in three days. Refuses to let the guards shop for her. She was about to go without food before Alex brought her groceries."
Arnold's jaw flexed.
"Alex?"
Henry nodded. "He's been checking in, making sure she eats, keeping her company here and there."
Arnold looked back out the window, but the tension in his posture betrayed him. His hands tightened at his sides.
"He's been at her apartment?"
"Just helping out," Henry said, watching him carefully. "Friendly, from what I gather."
Arnold said nothing, but the silence thickened.
"She's uncomfortable," Henry continued. "Panicked, even. The reporters are camping out like it's royal gossip. Cameras everywhere. Drones. She's been turning off her phone more than she's using it."
Arnold walked to his desk, sat slowly, and rubbed his temples. The guilt crept in like a cold tide. He had known there would be fallout. But this?
The image of Freya trapped in her own home because of him—because of a moment he hadn't even asked for—was heavier than he expected.
"She didn't deserve this," Arnold muttered.
"No, sir," Henry agreed. "But that doesn't matter to the public."
Arnold leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He'd built his life on control—tight power. Now everything was slipping, and the one person who had nothing to do with his world was caught in its storm.
He clenched his fists. "Charles wants me to lie."
Henry nodded. "I figured. Ariel's family is pushing hard. Say the photo was a misunderstanding—Ariel in disguise. Your 'fiancée.'"
"And that'll magically make this go away?" Arnold's lip curled in disgust.
Henry shrugged. "It might. The media will shift its focus. The Sawyers will spin it with press releases and champagne toasts. Freya might finally get some peace."
Arnold stood again, suddenly restless. He paced.
"If I do that... I'm protecting her. But I'm also erasing her."
Henry said nothing. He knew Arnold didn't want an answer—just the chance to say it aloud.
"She'll be free," Arnold continued, "but at what cost? Her name won't be dragged anymore, but she'll know I chose comfort over truth."
______
Every hour that passed brought more calls, more chaos. His investors were threatening to freeze pending deals. His publicist was on the verge of collapse. And the image of Freya hiding inside her apartment flashed through his mind like a curse.
Suddenly, Rachel and Henry entered.
"Sir, it's a 5% decrease now." Rachel declared, panting.
Arnold gritted his teeth instantly.
Henry moved to the table and spoke quietly to him. "If we don't act fast, things might get worse."
Finally, with hands clenched at his sides, Arnold said the words he had been trying to avoid.
"Call a press conference."
Rachel and Henry both looked up at each other.
"I'll do it. I'll say it was Ariel."
Henry blinked. "Are you sure?"
"No," Arnold said flatly. "But if this is what keeps her and the company safe... then yes."