---
EPISODE 13 — Quiet Control
(Ethan's POV)
The morning sunlight cut through the blinds in sharp lines across my dorm room, illuminating dust motes that floated lazily in the still air. I lay back on my bed, hoodie half-zipped, eyes on the ceiling, but my mind wasn't on sleep. It was on her. Layla.
The video was almost gone. Marcus had worked faster than I could have hoped, leveraging every connection, every ounce of influence the Marshall name carried. Still, even with the digital storm subsiding, the weight of yesterday's chaos lingered. My father's words repeated in my mind, sharp as ever: Don't make headlines.
I had avoided his call until late last night, not because I didn't want to answer, but because I needed a plan. A strategy. A way to contain the fallout without letting it consume us. Now, with the video almost erased, I allowed myself a brief exhale.
But even as I lay there, my phone vibrated incessantly. Marcus's name flashed on the screen. I picked up, voice low.
"Status?"
"Controlled. The video is disappearing from all major platforms. Minor reposts are being flagged as we speak. By the end of the day, it's like it never existed," Marcus said, calm and precise.
"Good," I muttered. "Keep monitoring. No loose ends."
"Always."
I hung up and pushed myself off the bed, pacing. The quad would be crowded soon; the students were curious, restless, and if I wasn't careful, someone would slip, someone would try to get another angle, another clip. I needed to see her. To make sure she was safe.
By mid-morning, I found Layla sitting at the edge of the library fountain. She looked… exhausted, but composed, sketchbook open but largely untouched. Chloe hovered nearby, energetic and vigilant, while Mia was calm as ever, flipping through her notes. Their presence was grounding, but Layla remained the centre of my focus.
I approached slowly, hoodie up, eyes scanning the crowd for anyone who might notice. "Handled?" I asked, voice low.
She looked up, relief evident in her eyes. "Marcus cleared most of it. The video is disappearing, fast. By tonight, there won't be a trace."
I allowed a faint smirk. "Good. My father… he would've gone ballistic if it had stayed up longer."
She hesitated, then nodded. "Handled… thanks to Marcus. You've got a good team."
I shrugged, though my eyes never left hers. "Loyal. Efficient. Worth every ounce of trust."
Chloe appeared beside her, eyebrows raised. "All quiet? No firestorm?"
"For now," Layla said.
Mia glanced between us. "I don't think I've ever seen either of you so tense and relieved at the same time."
I let a small laugh escape, but it was short-lived. "This… chaos isn't over. My father—the Marshall reputation—it never truly rests."
Layla's gaze softened, and for a moment, the world faded. No whispers, no phones, no digital evidence—just her. I leaned slightly closer, voice quiet. "Then we survive it. Together. Carefully."
Her lips curved faintly, and a quiet smile lingered. "Together."
The morning passed in a haze of classes, quiet walks across campus, and Marcus checking in at intervals. Each time he approached, his presence reminded me that control was everything. Every whisper, every glance could spark trouble. And even though the video was disappearing, the memory of the chaos hung over us, subtle but unyielding.
By late afternoon, I found a moment alone with her again. The courtyard was quieter now, the sun lowering toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the quad. I sat on the edge of the fountain beside her, sketchbook closed, hands resting lightly on the stone.
"Feeling better?" I asked softly, though I knew the answer would be layered.
Layla exhaled, tracing a finger along the fountain's edge. "A little. Marcus handled the worst of it. But… It's not just about the video. It's everything that came with it. The attention, the whispers…"
I nodded, understanding more than she could know. "I know. My father… Gregory Marshall… he doesn't forgive mistakes lightly. One viral moment could ripple farther than you realize. But I've controlled it. For now."
She glanced at me, eyes steady. "I know. And I appreciate it. More than I can say."
I let a rare moment of vulnerability show, voice lower. "I couldn't let anything happen to you. Not because of me, not because of my family. You're… important. Too important to risk recklessly."
Her gaze softened further, and she reached for my hand, brushing her fingers lightly against mine. The touch was electric, grounding, reminding me that even amidst chaos, there were constants. "And you'll always protect me?"
I held her gaze, heart steadying despite the lingering tension. "Always."
The words felt heavier than a promise—they were a vow.
Chloe and Mia approached then, Chloe buzzing with questions about classes and campus gossip, Mia calm and observant. Their chatter broke the moment, but I didn't mind. Layla's hand lingered near mine for just a second longer before she withdrew it, the unspoken reassurance still present.
By evening, I walked her back to the dorms. The sky was painted in deep purples and golds, mirroring the quiet victory of the day. Students passed us, some glancing curiously, others too absorbed in their own worlds. I stayed alert, scanning the periphery, ensuring no cameras or phones could capture anything unexpected. Marcus's influence was strong, but vigilance was never optional.
When we reached the dorm, Chloe flopped dramatically onto her bed, Mia continued her notes, and Layla paused at the door, looking at me with a quiet intensity.
"Thank you," she said softly. "For everything. Marcus, your father… you've kept this under control."
I shook my head, a faint smile tugging at my lips. "It's not about thanks. It's about keeping you safe. And we're not done yet—control is continuous. One misstep, one leak…" I trailed off, letting her imagination fill in the consequences.
"I understand," she whispered.
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "No one—no one—gets to dictate how we feel. Not my father, not the campus, not anyone. This… this is ours. You and me. Whatever comes next, we handle it carefully, together."
Her lips curved in a small, knowing smile. "Careful… is your speciality, isn't it?"
"Sometimes," I admitted, letting a rare chuckle escape. "Sometimes it's necessary."
The night settled around us. I watched her disappear into the dorm, safe and composed, Chloe and Mia flanking her like guardians in their own way. I lingered outside, letting the quiet of the campus seep into my bones. The video was gone. The headlines would fade. But the memory of the chaos, the risk, and the brief taste of vulnerability would remain. Always.
Pulling my hoodie tighter, I started the walk back to my dorm, phone in hand. A message from Marcus: All clear. Continue monitoring. Report any anomalies immediately.
I typed a quick response: Understood. Will do.
Then I paused, looking up at the sky. The storm of yesterday had passed, but the calm wasn't fragile—it was strategic. We had survived the chaos. We had reclaimed control.
And for the first time in days, I allowed myself to believe that the storm could be weathered, and that whatever came next, we would face it together.
Because some risks weren't just worth taking—they were unavoidable. And some people… some people were worth every storm.
And for her, for Layla, I would endure anything.
---