**Chapter 5 – The Scandal Leak**
By Monday morning, Ava could already feel the tension in the air.
The Frost Corporation lobby buzzed with unease. Employees whispered in clusters, eyes darting toward her before quickly turning away. Phones buzzed, screens flashed—and every conversation stopped when she passed.
Something was wrong.
When the elevator doors opened on the top floor, Elena was waiting, her expression tight. "Mrs. Frost," she said quietly, "you should come with me. Now."
Ava followed her into Damian's office. He was standing behind his desk, jaw clenched, one hand gripping his phone. The massive glass windows behind him framed a stormy skyline.
"What happened?" Ava asked.
He didn't answer. Instead, he tossed a tablet onto the table. "See for yourself."
She picked it up—and froze. A headline blared across the screen:
**"Frost Heir's Marriage a PR Stunt? Secret Deal Exposed!"**
Below it was a photo from the gala—Damian and Ava dancing, his hand low on her back, her face tilted up to his. But someone had edited the image, making it look far more intimate than it had been. Another image followed: Ava's old résumé, an article about her father's debt, and a screenshot of her "marriage contract" — or what looked like one.
Her stomach dropped. "This is fake."
"I know," Damian said grimly. "But it looks real enough to destroy you."
"Me?" she said, anger rising. "What about you? You're the one who—"
"They won't touch me," he interrupted. "I've survived worse headlines. But you… you're an easier target."
The words stung. "So you're saying I'm collateral damage."
"I'm saying we need to get ahead of it."
Ava's fingers tightened around the tablet. "Who leaked it?"
Damian's gaze darkened. "Catherine Linford."
Of course. Ava should have guessed. "She's really going this far?"
"She always does," he said quietly. "And she won't stop until she gets what she wants."
"And what's that?" Ava asked.
He hesitated. "Me. Or my downfall."
---
By noon, every news outlet had picked up the story. Paparazzi swarmed outside the building. Social media trended with hashtags: **#FakeMrsFrost** and **#ContractBride.**
Ava hid in Damian's office, scrolling through comments that cut deeper than she expected.
*She's a gold digger.*
*No wonder he married her out of nowhere.*
*Poor Damian, trapped by a scammer.*
Her hands trembled. "This is insane. How can they just—believe this?"
"Because they want to," Damian said, pacing behind her. "People love a scandal more than a truth."
"And what's your brilliant plan now, Mr. Frost?" she snapped. "Issue a statement? Pretend to love me even more?"
He stopped pacing. "Exactly."
Ava blinked. "What?"
He turned, eyes sharp. "We double down. We make it impossible for anyone to doubt us."
"You mean… act even more in love?" she said, incredulous.
"Not act," he said. "Convince."
"Same thing," she muttered.
Damian stepped closer, his presence commanding. "There's a charity gala tonight at the Regent Hotel. Every major outlet will be there. We'll arrive together. Smile. Hold hands. Kiss, if necessary."
Ava's pulse jumped. "Kiss?"
He met her eyes steadily. "It's for damage control."
Her breath caught. "Right. Just PR."
He didn't respond, but something unreadable flickered behind his eyes.
---
That evening, Ava stood in front of the mirror again, dressed in an elegant sapphire gown that shimmered under the light. Her reflection looked poised, flawless—nothing like the storm raging inside her.
Damian entered without knocking. He paused for a fraction of a second before saying, "You look… stunning."
She frowned. "Acceptable or stunning?"
"Stunning," he admitted, voice lower than usual.
The compliment shouldn't have mattered—but it did.
---
The gala was a circus of flashing cameras and forced smiles. Reporters shouted questions as Damian placed a protective arm around her waist.
"Mr. Frost, are the rumors true?"
"Mrs. Frost, was your marriage arranged?"
"Is this a publicity stunt?"
Damian leaned close, whispering just loud enough for the cameras to catch. "Ignore them. Look at me."
She did. And then, without warning, he pulled her close and kissed her.
The world fell silent.
It wasn't a staged kiss. It wasn't careful or polite. It was warm, real—too real. Ava's breath hitched as his lips pressed against hers, firm but gentle. The flashes of cameras blurred into white noise.
When he finally pulled away, the crowd erupted—half cheers, half chaos.
Ava's heart pounded so loud she could barely hear herself think. Damian's expression was unreadable, but his hand didn't leave her waist.
As they slipped inside, Elena hurried over. "That was… effective," she said. "The narrative's already shifting."
Ava swallowed. "So that's it? Damage controlled?"
"Partly," Damian said. "But Catherine won't stop here."
"She wants war?" Ava said. "Then she'll get one."
Damian's lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile. "Careful, Mrs. Frost. You're starting to sound like me."
"Maybe that's not such a bad thing."
---
Later that night, when the gala ended and the cameras were gone, Ava found herself on the balcony overlooking the city. The wind tugged at her hair, carrying the faint echo of applause from below.
Damian stepped beside her. "You handled yourself well tonight."
She turned to him. "You mean I didn't ruin your reputation?"
"I mean," he said softly, "you made people believe in us."
Ava searched his face. "And what about you, Damian? Do you believe in us?"
For once, he didn't have an answer.
The silence stretched between them—heavy, charged, fragile. Then Damian turned away, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Belief," he said, "is dangerous."
And with that, he walked back inside, leaving Ava staring after him as the city lights flickered like stars—bright, beautiful, and painfully out of reach.