ten layers of shell paperwork.

Felicia stared at the data wall until a risky idea formed.

“He paid Linda because he wanted proximity,” she said.

“If he thinks he’s getting it, he’ll push harder.” Alexander understood immediately, and hated the idea at the same speed.

“A public engagement,” he said.

The words landed between them like a blade laid on glass.

“He’ll panic.

He’ll either accelerate the surveillance or try something public.” Felicia looked at him.

“You mean pretend to want exactly what they accused you of wanting.” “Only if you choose it,” he said at once.

“And if you say no, we find another way.”

She went back to the apartment and did not sleep.

Every memory she had of Linda, of being told to obey, made the plan feel poisonous.

But this time the difference mattered.

This time the choice was hers.

By morning, she returned to Alexander’s office with conditions written on a notebook page torn neatly at the edge.

Six weeks only.

Separate rooms.

No physical expectations.

Full legal control over her own money.

An exit clause she could trigger without penalty.

Continued employment regardless of their public status.

Alexander read the page with such seriousness that she almost smiled.

“You’re very good at contracts for someone who hates them,” he said.

“I hate bad ones,” she replied.

He signed first.

The announcement detonated across finance sites, gossip blogs, and the boardroom within an hour.

Headlines called Felicia everything from Cinderella to opportunist.

Comment sections obsessed over Alexander’s disability, his fortune, her plain background, the age gap, the mystery.

Reeves Tech stock dipped, recovered, then climbed when investors saw Alexander make his first live appearance in months beside a woman who looked neither dazzled nor afraid to speak.

Felicia hated every camera.

She hated that strangers discussed her face like a business trend.

But she discovered something else at the same time: once people had already said the worst about you, fear lost some of its teeth.

Linda called fourteen times in one afternoon.

Felicia ignored every call until Mina suggested she stop wasting evidence.

So she answered on speaker with the recorder running.

Linda began crying before Felicia said hello.

She spoke of sacrifice, of motherhood, of misunderstanding, then turned vicious when pity failed.

“You would have nothing without me,” she hissed.

“Damian only paid a finder’s fee.

That’s how these things work.

Don’t act holy now that you landed the jackpot.” Felicia held the phone away and let the silence lengthen.

It was the first time Linda had ever confessed because she believed fear would keep her safe.

When the call ended, Mina saved three backups.

The engagement gala took place in the same Grand Meridian Hotel where Alexander had first stopped beside Felicia in the corridor.

That detail was his, not the board’s, and when she asked why he chose it, he answered with disarming honesty.

“Because I would prefer our trap to start where I first noticed you.” She wore a deep blue dress Mina selected because it made her look composed even while trembling.

Alexander wore a black tuxedo, his chair fitted with matte carbon panels that turned technology into elegance.

In the mirrored waiting room before they entered the ballroom, he looked at her reflection instead of her nerves.

“You