I woke up late, exhausted,my phone vibrating and notifications flood my screen;
"FAKE WIFE?"
"BLACKWELL CONTRACT MARRIAGE?"
"INSIDER CLAIMS SHE WAS PAID."
Still, on this? A new blog looking for followers I guess.
I yawned.
Damien said it will die down though. Safe to say it isn't as serious as 2 days back.
Is true what people say give any rumor 3days and after that it dies.
People who wanted to use it for clout chasing and trends have already got their thing now we can all face the reality of our lives.
Their vicious and malicious comments doesn't feel hurt anymore.
I have come to realize that no matter what life throws at you just take it and make sure you make the best out of it, don't wallow in people talks, pains and sorrow forever.
I lazily got out of my bed looking forward to another day.
Let me not be too quick to tag it yet since we can't be so sure anymore but I hope today goes better than the previous days.
A knock on the door startles me — but this time it's just the housekeeper delivering breakfast.
Still, I check behind the door, for some reason I have been skeptical lately i now fear someone is following me after last night's intrusion.
A notification came in again and I ignored it, it's the usual trend.
I got into the bathroom and refreshed up.
After few minute I got out trying to do my skincare routine and another notification popped in.
I decided to check not like I don't know what the notification will be all about.
Surprisingly I was wrong, A message from the gallery owner appears on my screen
"Your pieces are trending. People are coming today. You need to be here."
Oh my!! I covered my mouth with both hand to avoid screaming, Finally… Good God.
I know how I have always wanted this.
This has to be the best news I have received in years now. And I'm sure this is going to make a U-turn in my career and I can't wait for that to start manifesting.
Owning my own art gallery has always been my dream. A gallery people can stop by for site seeing more like a tourist center and can also get one or two paintings.
I quickly changed into something professional and headed outside, the driver was already waiting.
The security outside the mansion has doubled — Damien clearly did it overnight, even though he said nothing.
We need to leave now, sorry for the delay though. I apologize
The driver escorts me through paparazzi yelling:
"Eva! Why did Damien marry you?"
"How much were you paid?"
"Are you getting divorced?"
I keep my head down but hears everything.
Inside the car, i open my sketchbook. The hidden note remains there:Ask him what happened to Hale.
I clutch it tight.
I wonder if the rumors… were actually orchestrated.
To pressure me.
To distract me.
Or to warn me.
On Arrival the gallery is bright, serene — but filled. A crowd gathers around my new piece: a fragmented portrait of a man with no face.
The press has already inserted meaning:
"A metaphor for her loveless marriage!"
"She mocks Damien through art!"
The gallery owner, Ms. Liora, pulls me aside:
"Eva, people are buying pieces because your name is everywhere." "But they also want answers."
I feels like she's losing control of my own story — her art becomes twisted by gossip.
I overhears whispers:
"She trapped him."
"It's all a deal."
Argg!! This was supposed to be a happy moment, I was happy when I left home thinking all these stuffs would have died down completely. But now I see I am wrong maybe it needs another 1-2days.
Someone quietly steps behind me. She turns — shocked.
It's Silas.
Silas speaks quietly, keeping his head low.
"You shouldn't be alone today, Mrs. Blackwell."
I asks if Damien sent him.
Silas doesn't answer that — instead:
"There are… eyes on you. Not just paparazzi."
I went tense. "Did you go into my studio last night?"
Silas looks genuinely surprised. "No. I would never enter your room without permission."
His expression tightens when i says one word:
"Hale."
Silas stiffens.
"Who told you that name?"
But before he can say more, paparazzi shove closer to the windows, and Silas is forced to step back.
He whispers urgently: "Don't ask Damien about Hale. Not yet."
Who could this Hale be? I said to myself.
My dad also mentioned him when I went to ask him.
As i try to focus on the gallery event, reporters slip inside pretending to be guests.
One shoves a mic toward my face:"Eva, when did the contract start?"
"Is it true you were seen leaving a hospital with an older man? Who was he?" (her father)
I feel humiliated — my private life is no longer private.
I stumbles back into a display pedestal; a frame tilts dangerously.
A stranger steadies her…
But when i looks at him, he's already walking away.
I recognized the silhouette from her room the previous night.
Is it the same person?
Doors swing open — Damien walks in.
The crowd parts; cameras flash wildly.
His eyes find me instantly; something dark flashes through them when he sees me cornered.
He steps to my side, hand hovering at my back but not touching.
He speaks to the press sharply:
"This gallery is not a circus. And my wife isn't here for your entertainment."
The word wife makes the crowd buzz.
I, overwhelmed, steps closer to him without realizing it.
Damien subtly shields me with his body — protective, silent, tense.
As we leave the gallery, I see a figure across the street… A figure I might have seen before if I am not mistaken.
Watching.
Still.
Unmoving.
The same figure from the mansion hallway?
From my studio?
I can't be sure.
But i know Someone is following me even if I can prove it
And now the rumors feel like the smallest problem.