The announcement went live at exactly 9:00 a.m
Amara watched it happen from Ethan's office.
One moment, silence.
The next, headlines.
BLACKWOOD CEO ANNOUNCES ENGAGEMENT.
MYSTERY WOMAN IDENTIFIED AS AMARA COLLINS.
WHIRLWIND ROMANCE OR STRATEGIC MOVE?
Her name felt strange in bold letters.
Her photo, pulled from corporate archives, appeared beside his.
"This feels unreal," she murmured.
Ethan stood by the window, phone pressed to his ear as he spoke calmly with someone from the communications team.
"Yes," he said. "Controlled access. No independent questions."
Controlled.
Everything was controlled.
Except the part where it wasn't.
When he ended the call, he turned to her. "The press conference is at noon."
"Press conference?" She repeated, her stomach tightening.
"We confirm the engagement publicly," he said.
"Answer limited questions. Present unity."
Unity.
She folded her arms. "You could have warned me before signing me up for a public interrogation."
"You knew this would happen."
"Eventually," she argued. "Not this fast."
Ethan walked toward her slowly.
"I won't let them corner you," he said. "You speak only if you're comfortable."
She gave him a look. "And if I'm not?"
"Then I handle it."
His confidence was steady, almost infuriatingly so.
But beneath it, she sensed something else.
Tension.
He hadn't planned for things to escalate this quickly.
Neither had she.
By eleven thirty, the front gates of the estate were lined with reporters.
Cameras. Microphones. News vans.
Amara stood in her room, staring at the dress laid out on her bed. Deep emerald green. Elegant but understated.
A stylish had arrived an hour earlier, moving efficiently through hair and makeup while Amara sat still, her thoughts racing.
"You look stunning," the stylist said, stepping back.
Amara barely heard her.
This was no longer just a contract between two people.
It was public property.
A knock sounded at her door.
She dismissed the stylist and opened it herself.
Ethan stood there in a tailored charcoal suit, his expression unreadable for half a second, until his eyes took her in.
Something shifted.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
"You're ready," he said quietly.
"Am I?" She replied.
His gaze softened, just slightly.
"You don't have to do this," he said.
She blinked.
"That's new."
"If you want her," he continued, "say so now."
She studied him carefully.
Was that genuine?
Or strategy?
"Walking away now would make things worse." She said, "For both of us."
He didn't argue.
Instead, he extended his hand.
A simple gesture.
Professional.
Necessary.
She hesitated only a moment before placing her hand in his.
His grip was warm. Firm. Steady.
And suddenly, this felt dangerously real.
The front doors opened.
Flashes exploded instantly.
Voices overlapped.
"Mr. Blackwood! When did you meet?"
"Is this connected to recent restructuring rumors?"
"Ms. Collins, were you previously employed at Blackwood Holdings?"
Amara's pulse roared in her ears.
Ethan didn't slow.
He guided her down the steps with quiet authority, stopping at the podium arranged at the bottom of the entrance.
His hand remained at the small of her back.
Protective.
Possessive.
Convincing.
He began speaking, calm, composed, controlled.
"Thank you all for coming. I understand there has been speculation regarding personal life…"
Amara focused on breathing.
In. Out.
Cameras zoomed in.
Every blink, every expression, captured.
"We are pleased to confirm our engagement," Ethan continued, his voice steady. "This is a personal decision, and we appreciate your respect."
A reporter called out, "Ms. Collins, how did you and Mr. Blackwood meet?"
Every camera shifted to her.
This was it.
Her first test.
Amara felt Ethan's hand press slightly against her back, grounding not forcing.
She stepped closer to the microphone.
"We met through work," she said clearly. "And what began as professional respect grew into something more meaningful."
It wasn't a lie.
Not entirely.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Another voice shouted, "were you terminated from the company last week?"
Her breath caught.
There it was.
The real target.
The camera angled closer.
Ethan stepped forward immediately.
"Personnel matters are confidential," he said firmly. "This engagement is not related to corporate decisions."
The reporter pushed. "So the timing is coincidence?"
Ethan's expression cooled.
"The timing," he said evenly, "is personal."
His tone left no room for argument.
But Amara noticed it.
The subtle tightening in his jaw.
The way his eyes scanned the crowd more carefully now.
He wasn't just addressing questions.
He was searching.
For something.
Or someone.
The press conference ended fifteen minutes later.
Fifteen exhausting, endless minutes.
As they turned to go back inside, Amara felt it.
A gaze.
Sharp. Intent.
She looked up instinctively.
Beyond the reporters, near the back of the gathered crowd, stood a man who wasn't holding a microphone.
He wasn't speaking.
He was watching.
Directly at her.
Their eyes met for a split second.
His expression didn't change.
But hers did.
Because she recognized him.
Daniel Reeves.
Former IT analyst at Blackwood Holdings.
Transferred quietly six months ago after an internal audit.
Her heart began to pound.
What was he doing here?
Before she could react, someone stepped in front of her, blocking her view.
When she looked up again,
He was gone.
Inside the house, the door closed firmly behind them.
Silence returned.
Heavy and thick.
"You handled that well," Ethan said, removing his jacket.
Amara didn't respond immediately.
Her mind was racing.
"Daniel Reeves," she said suddenly.
Ethan paused. "What about him?"
"I saw him."
His eyes sharpened instantly. "Where?"
"In the crowd. Near the back."
"That's not possible," Ethan said. "He's no longer with the company."
"I know that," she replied. "But he was there."
Ethan studied her carefully.
"You're certain?"
"Yes."
A long silence followed.
Ethan walked to the window, looking out toward the gates.
"Daniel worked in cybersecurity," he said slowly. "He had access to internal systems."
Amara felt the pieces begin to shift.
"My credentials," she whispered.
Ethan turned toward her.
"You think he used them."
"I think," she said carefully, "he could have."
The room felt colder.
"If he's connected to this," Ethan said quietly, "then this isn't just about board politics."
"No," she agreed.
It was bigger.
And far more dangerous.
Her phone buzzed again.
Both of them looked down at it.
Unknown number.
Again.
Amara's fingers trembled slightly as she opened the message.
Pretty Performance.
Her breath hitched.
But you're asking the wrong questions.
Ethan stepped closer, reading over her shoulder.
Ask him what happened to project Helix.
The name meant nothing to her.
But judging by the way Ethan went completely still,
It meant something to him.
She slowly lifted her eyes to his.
"What is privacy Helix?"
For the first time since she had met him, Ethan Blackwood looked caught off guard.
Not controlled.
Not calculated.
Exposed.
"That," he said quietly, "isn't something you need to worry about."
Her stomach dropped.
"That's not an answer."
"It's protection."
"From what?" She demanded.
His gaze locked onto hers.
"From me."
The words settled between them like a crack splitting ice.
And suddenly, Amara understood something she hadn't before.
The contract wasn't the most dangerous thing she'd signed.
Trust was.