Chapter 7: The Media Circus and the Sapphire's Glint
The next morning, the villa was a hive of activity. Killian's order for Evelyn to be "seen" meant a small army of stylists, makeup artists, and public relations handlers had descended upon her suite. They moved with an urgent, hushed efficiency, transforming her from the quiet enigma of yesterday into the polished, untouchable Mrs. Thorne.
Evelyn sat silently, letting them work. The sapphire necklace, a cool weight against her skin, was her anchor. The memory of Killian's hands on her neck, his breath on her lips, still sent a shiver through her. The line between their contract and a dangerous, unspoken attraction was blurring with every passing hour.
"Perfect," the lead stylist declared, stepping back. "Absolutely flawless."
Evelyn looked in the mirror. She was stunning. Her hair was styled in soft waves that framed her face, her makeup subtle but enhancing, and she wore a bespoke white pant suit that exuded power and understated elegance. The thick, concealing glasses were gone, replaced by thin, almost invisible frames that highlighted the sharp, intelligent glint in her eyes.
"The press conference begins in thirty minutes," Maria announced, appearing at the door. "Mr. Thorne is waiting for you in the drawing room."
As Evelyn walked down the grand staircase, Killian was there, standing by the fireplace, talking into his phone. He was dressed in a dark, impeccably tailored suit, radiating authority. He looked up as she descended, and for the second time, Evelyn saw a flicker of raw surprise in his eyes.
He ended his call and walked toward her, his gaze sweeping over her with an intensity that made her entire body tingle. He didn't speak, but his eyes conveyed a silent, profound approval.
"You look..." he began, his voice rough, "like you were born for this."
"I was born to survive, Mr. Thorne," Evelyn replied, her voice steady. "This is just another act."
Killian offered his arm. His hand was warm and firm on hers. "Let's go. It's time to face the hyenas."
The Press Conference: A Trap Revealed
The conference room at Thorne Tower was packed. Blinding camera flashes illuminated a throng of reporters, their faces eager for a scandal. Killian stood at the podium, Evelyn by his side, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm. The sapphire gleamed at her throat.
"Good morning," Killian began, his voice calm and authoritative. "As you know, Thorne Industries faced a significant attack last night. I am pleased to announce that the perpetrators have been identified, and their attempts to destabilize the market were thwarted. My uncle, Marcus Thorne, has resigned from the board, effective immediately, pending an internal investigation."
A wave of murmuring swept through the room. This was the news they had been waiting for.
Suddenly, a shrill voice cut through the air. "Mr. Thorne! A question for your wife!"
A petite, sharp-faced reporter from a notorious tabloid, known for digging up dirt on the elite, pushed her way to the front. Evelyn recognized her instantly a known associate of Beatrice Thorne. This was no coincidence.
"Mrs. Thorne," the reporter began, a venomous smile on her lips. "Before you became Mrs. Thorne, you were known as Evelyn Vance. Daughter of the disgraced former CEO of Vance Capital, who was jailed for embezzlement. Is it true you were blacklisted from every financial firm in the country? Is it true you spent the last two years working as a janitor?"
The room erupted. Flashbulbs went off like fireworks. Every eye was on Evelyn. Killian's grip on her arm tightened, his face turning to stone. He shot a furious glance at the reporter, but the damage was done. His 'invisible' wife, his 'clean slate,' had just been publicly soiled.
Evelyn felt the blood drain from her face, but she forced herself to meet the reporter's gaze. This was Beatrice's trap, meant to humiliate her and undermine Killian's credibility. If Evelyn faltered now, she would confirm every ugly rumor.
"My past is my own, Miss..." Evelyn paused, pretending to read the reporter's name tag. "Ah, Miss Jenkins. And yes, my family faced difficulties. But I find it interesting that you're so fixated on my past, when the present is so much more revealing."
She leaned closer to the microphone, her voice carrying an unexpected, steely clarity. "Unlike some people, I don't hide my past. I learned from it. I learned that true value isn't inherited; it's earned. And I learned that sometimes, the biggest dirt isn't on the floor; it's in the hands of the people who pretend to be clean."
She paused, then continued, her eyes locking onto the reporter with a cold, piercing intensity. "Speaking of cleanliness, Miss Jenkins, I couldn't help but notice... you have a rather prominent smudge on your lens. Did you know that fingerprints can often tell a very interesting story?"
The reporter, taken aback, instinctively reached for her camera lens, brushing at an invisible mark.
"Oh, not on the camera, Miss Jenkins," Evelyn corrected, a slight, knowing smile touching her lips. "On your glasses. A small smear of... what is that? Ah, yes. It looks like the residue from a specific type of industrial cleaning agent. The kind used by... private investigators who like to get a bit too close to their subjects."
The reporter froze, her face turning ashen. Killian, standing beside Evelyn, felt a jolt of shock. He knew that scent. It was on his own clothes just last night after confronting Evelyn. It was the scent of the cleaning solutions in the Thorne Tower.
"Did you know, Miss Jenkins," Evelyn continued, her voice now dangerously soft, "that many corporations, especially those with questionable ethics, often hire freelancers to dig up dirt? And sometimes, those freelancers can leave behind... little calling cards. Like the unique chemical signature of a floor wax on their shoes. Or, in your case, a very specific brand of glass cleaner on your lenses."
She paused, letting the implication hang in the air. "I believe it's called 'Beatrice's Secret Weapon' a rather strong, almost corrosive cleaner, isn't it? Very effective at removing stubborn stains... and reputations."
The room was silent. Every journalist now looked at Miss Jenkins, not Evelyn. The reporter's face was beet red, her composure shattered. Beatrice's attempt to expose Evelyn had backfired spectacularly.
Killian looked down at Evelyn, his eyes burning with a dangerous fascination. He hadn't known she had this in her. He hadn't known she could turn a trap into a weapon.
The Unspoken Connection
The press conference concluded with Killian regaining control, swiftly dismissing Miss Jenkins and redirecting attention to Thorne Industries' soaring stock prices. As they walked off the stage, the atmosphere around them was electric.
"That was... unexpected," Killian said, his voice low, almost a growl. He pulled her into a quiet side corridor. "How did you know about the cleaning agent? And her glasses?"
Evelyn met his gaze, her own eyes blazing with a mixture of defiance and a thrill she couldn't quite contain. "I spent two years in the shadows, Mr. Thorne. I learned to see what others miss. And sometimes, the smallest details are the biggest tells."
Killian stared at her, his hand reaching out to touch the sapphire, his fingers brushing the warmth of her skin. "You humiliate my mother's spy in front of the entire city, and you call it 'seeing what others miss'?"
"She was attacking your company, Mr. Thorne," Evelyn replied, her voice holding an edge that was both daring and alluring. "And me. I protect what's mine. Or rather, what's ours. As per the contract."
He leaned in, his face inches from hers. His breath was warm against her lips. "Are you 'Oracle,' Evelyn?" he whispered, his voice thick with a question that felt more like a challenge.
Evelyn's heart hammered against her ribs. She looked into his eyes dark, intense, and filled with a dangerous curiosity. She saw the longing for the truth, but also the fear of what that truth might mean.
She shook her head slowly, a faint, enigmatic smile on her lips. "I'm just your wife, Mr. Thorne. A little cleaner for the messier parts of your life. And sometimes... even the cleanest houses need a good scrub."
Killian's gaze dropped to her lips, his hunger undeniable. The air crackled between them, thick with unsaid words and an escalating, undeniable tension. He wanted to kiss her, to plunder the secrets he knew she held. He wanted to pull her close and claim the power he saw simmering beneath her demure facade.
But just as he leaned in, his phone buzzed violently. It was an urgent call from his head of security.
He pulled back, his jaw tight with frustration. He gave her one last, intense look that promised this conversation was far from over.
"This isn't finished," he breathed, before turning and striding away, leaving Evelyn trembling in the quiet corridor, the sapphire gleaming, and the game between them reaching a fever pitch.