POV: Lena Carter
The first thing Lena noticed when she woke up was the silence.
It wasn't the peaceful kind. It was the kind that pressed against her ears, heavy and expectant, like the pause before something shattered. She lay still in the massive bed, the morning light barely filtering through the floor-to-ceiling curtains of the penthouse. For a moment, she allowed herself to pretend she was just an ordinary woman waking up in an unfamiliar place.
Then her phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Then again—rapid, insistent.
Her chest tightened.
She reached for it, and the screen lit up with notifications stacked one after another.
BREAKING NEWS.
BLACKWOOD CEO'S "CONTRACT WIFE" UNDER SCRUTINY.
WHO IS LENA CARTER—AND WHAT IS SHE HIDING?
Her breath caught. Her fingers trembled as she clicked the first link.
Photos loaded slowly, cruelly. Grainy images of her entering a public hospital. Another of her leaving a small apartment building she hadn't visited in weeks. Headlines painted speculation as fact, weaving a narrative of opportunism and deceit.
Gold digger.
Mystery woman.
Calculated marriage.
Lena sat up abruptly, the sheet pooling at her waist. Her heart pounded—not with panic, but with a sharp, burning anger.
So this was Victor's escalation.
The bedroom door opened quietly. Adrian stepped inside, already dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his expression unreadable but tense. He took one look at her face and knew.
"You've seen it," he said.
Lena nodded. "They followed me. Someone leaked everything." Her voice was steady, but beneath it simmered rage. "The hospital. My mother."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "That was deliberate."
She laughed once, bitterly. "Of course it was."
He crossed the room and sat beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. "The board is panicking," he said. "Sponsors are calling. Victor is pushing for a public statement."
"That clears me," Lena said immediately.
Adrian hesitated.
Her eyes snapped to his. "You're not considering letting them spin this, are you?"
"No," he said quickly. "But I need to know what you want."
That stopped her.
What she wanted was to scream. To disappear. To protect her mother from becoming collateral damage. But something else rose beneath that fear—a hard, unfamiliar resolve.
"I want to fight," she said quietly. "Not hide."
Adrian studied her, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. "Once you do, there's no going back."
"I already crossed that line the moment I signed the contract."
A pause stretched between them, charged with something unspoken. Then Adrian nodded. "Then we do this properly."
Within an hour, Lena was seated in a private conference room at Blackwood Corporation, media advisors buzzing around her like anxious bees. Screens displayed headlines scrolling endlessly, each one worse than the last.
"They're framing her as a liability," one consultant said.
"We can soften the narrative," another added. "Paint her as a charity case."
Lena's spine stiffened. "I'm not a charity case."
The room fell silent.
Adrian leaned forward. "She's right."
Victor Hale stood near the screen, arms crossed, his expression carefully neutral. "Public sympathy is a tool," he said smoothly. "Use it."
Lena turned to him slowly. "And public humiliation is yours?"
A few people shifted uncomfortably.
Victor's lips curved faintly. "You misunderstand. This situation requires sacrifice."
"Not mine," Lena replied.
Adrian's voice cut in, sharp. "Enough. We'll release a controlled interview. Lena speaks for herself."
Victor's gaze flickered—just for a second. Annoyance. Calculation. Then it was gone.
The interview aired that evening.
Lena sat across from the journalist, hands folded neatly in her lap, heart pounding but posture unwavering.
"I didn't marry Adrian Blackwood for money," she said calmly. "I married him because I was offered a legal agreement at a time when my family needed help. I have nothing to be ashamed of."
The journalist pressed. "Are you saying this was purely transactional?"
Lena met the camera head-on. "I'm saying it was honest."
The clip went viral within minutes.
Some comments were cruel. Others surprised her.
She's stronger than they expected.
She didn't flinch.
Maybe she's not the villain here.
By nightfall, Lena returned to the penthouse exhausted, emotionally raw. She kicked off her heels and leaned against the counter, finally letting her composure crack.
Adrian watched her quietly. Then he stepped closer.
"You did well," he said.
"I hate that they dragged my mother into this," Lena whispered. "I hate that my life is public property."
His hand lifted, hesitated, then settled against her back. The touch was steady, grounding.
"I won't let them hurt you," he said softly.
For a moment, she allowed herself to lean into him. Just a little.
Then her phone buzzed again.
This time, it wasn't the media.
UNKNOWN: "Check Clause 17-B. Your name wasn't added by accident."
Her blood ran cold.
She pulled away from Adrian, heart racing. "I need to see the inheritance file."
"Now?" he asked.
"Yes. Now."
Minutes later, she stared at the document on the tablet, her eyes scanning the highlighted section.
Clause 17-B: In the event of a legally binding marriage entered without coercion, the spouse retains provisional authority over discretionary trusts pending audit completion.
Her name.
Lena Carter Blackwood.
"This means…" her voice trembled.
Adrian exhaled slowly. "It means Victor's running out of time."
Her phone buzzed once more.
This time, the message was unmistakably clear.
VICTOR: Careful, Mrs. Blackwood. Power has consequences.
Lena's hands curled into fists.
"Let him come," she said quietly. "I'm done being scared."
POV: Victor Hale
Victor watched the interview replay in silence, the glass in his hand untouched.
She hadn't broken.
Interesting.
He opened another file—one Lena hadn't seen yet.
"Enjoy your moment," he murmured. "It won't last."