Emma's Pov
The sound of my phone wouldn't stop going off.
At first, I thought it was part of a dream with the endless vibration against my nightstand, the muffled pings of notifications stacking one after another but when I reached out groggily and the screen lit up, reality slammed into me like ice water.
I clicked on one of the notifications and it took me to a popular blog on Instagram. It was like I had been slapped back to reality.
My name, with my photo together with Damian's.
My heart was beating fast as I scrolled through the timeline. It was filled with the same picture with different headlines, all screaming the same thing.
"Therapist Turned Lover: Inside Damian Cross's Secret Affair."
"Cross Enterprises CEO Linked to His Therapist in Scandalous Leaks."
"Emma Lawson—Ethics or Emotion?"
My heart stopped.
I scrolled in disbelief, my hands trembling. There was a photo—that photo of me and Damian outside my office. I remembered that moment vividly. He had come to talk, his hand brushing my arm as I said something sarcastic that made him almost smile. It lasted two seconds. Just two seconds and now it was everywhere.
I sat up, clutching the blanket to my chest. My pulse thundered in my ears as comment sections flooded beneath the articles:
"So unprofessional. She should lose her license."
"Of course he's sleeping with her. Look at her face."
"Homewrecker therapist, how cliché."
My throat tightened. I dropped the phone, breathing unevenly.
No, no, no. This couldn't be happening, not like this.
I swung my legs off the bed and stumbled to the window. The city was waking up. I could see the flashes of cameras already visible from the street below. I pressed a hand to the glass, trying to steady myself.
Did they already know I lived with him? I shook my head, "no, I don't think so."
I turned away quickly from the window before they would catch sight of me, panic clawing at my chest. My phone kept buzzing on the nightstand, lighting up with calls and messages. It was text from my mother, my colleagues from the clinic, even my supervisor.
My career, my name. Everything I'd worked for—it was unraveling before my eyes.
I picked up the phone and pressed the power button, shutting it down. The sudden quiet was worse somehow. The sound of footsteps in the hallway made me freeze. I backed away from the door instinctively, heart hammering.
"Emma?" It was Damian's voice, it was low, steady, familiar. "Are you awake?"
I didn't answer. My throat wouldn't work.
The handle turned slightly. "Emma, open the door."
"Please don't." My voice came out strangled. "Just… don't."
There was a long pause on the other side. I could feel his presence. It felt like he was in control but beneath it, a tension that mirrored my own.
"I saw the article," he said finally. "I'm handling it."
I laughed softly, bitterly. "You can't handle this, Damian, not this time."
"I can," he said quietly. "I will."
"Do you have any idea what this looks like?" I snapped, my voice shaking. "They're calling me unethical. Saying I slept with you while I was still treating you. Do you realize what that means? My license, my career is gone!"
Silence.
Then, a low exhale. "I'm not going to let them do that to you."
"You can't stop them!" I shouted, slamming my hands against the door. "You're Damian Cross, the man they love to watch burn! Every woman you stand next to becomes a headline, a scandal, it is another name they would rip apart just to get to you!"
The words came out harsher than I meant, but they were true. Every instinct in me screamed to run, to put distance between us before the world made me regret not doing so sooner.
"Emma," he said softly. "Open the door."
I pressed my forehead against it instead. "I can't."
I heard him sigh, something raw in the sound. "Mia's already preparing a statement. Clara's handling the media."
Clara…..of course. She probably hated me already.
"Tell them whatever you want," I whispered. "Deny everything. Tell them I'm lying, that I made it up. Just...just fix it."
He didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was tight. "I'm not lying about you."
The words hit somewhere deep, somewhere I didn't want to feel.
"This isn't about the truth anymore," I said quietly. "It's about getting past this situation."
I backed away from the door and sank to the floor, hugging my knees. The soft hum of the city filtered through the windows, but all I could hear was the echo of my own pulse.
I'd built my life around boundaries, control, order but Damian Cross had come into it like a storm. It was beautiful, destructive and fucking impossible to ignore and now, that storm had blown my world apart.
There was a soft thud as something hit the door, it was a faint sound, like his hand resting against it.
"I'll fix this," he said again, his voice quieter now. "I promise you, Emma."
I didn't respond. I didn't trust promises, especially not from him.
Minutes passed, maybe hours. I couldn't tell. I didn't move until I heard his footsteps retreat down the hall.
Only then did I breathe again.
I dragged myself up, my body trembling as I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were red, my hair a mess. I looked nothing like the composed professional I tried so hard to be.
I turned my phone back on and the notifications slammed into it with full force. One caught my eye. I clicked on it. It was an anonymous account. " @InsideCrossAffairs"
I worked with Emma Lawson. She was always too close to her clients. Damian Cross isn't the first.
My vision blurred. This was a lie, were they trying to destroy me.
I grabbed the phone and threw it against the wall. The crack of glass echoed through the room before silence swallowed everything again.
I sank back onto the bed, my heart pounding painfully against my ribs. Every instinct screamed to leave, to pack my things and disappear before the paparazzi found out where I was but I couldn't.
Leaving meant I was guilty, it meant they had won and somewhere deep down, beneath the fear, was something else. It was anger. I was so angry. Someone had done this on purpose. Someone wanted this story out.
The timing, the photos, the anonymous posts. It wasn't a coincidence.
My mind went to Clara. To her cold politeness and careful smiles but no, she was too smart to start something that could hurt Cross Enterprises.
Then who?
The thought made my skin crawl.
I stood and shut the curtains tight, locking the door again before sinking onto the bed. The city's noise faded into a dull hum. My career was hanging by a thread. The press was tearing me apart and Damian, damn him was still trying to protect me when he should've been saving himself.
I pressed a shaking hand to my lips. I could still hear his voice from behind the door.
"I'll fix this."
But as I stared at the cracked remains of my phone on the floor, a cold truth settled in my chest.
Some things can't be fixed and soon, I'd find out just how much I was about to lose.