They both offer me their polite yet slightly confused goodbyes, and I make a beeline straight for Cece.
She’s already outside of the group now, walking away with steady steps, her chin still up.
I reach her quickly, gently pulling her further away by her elbow. “Baby, you okay?” I ask, concerning bleeding through every syllable.
She blinks. Once. Fear gleaming in those beautiful eyes. Then she nods, before quickly shaking her head. “There’s a… there’s another article. Speculations around your press conference last Friday,” she whispers, voice shaking.
A cold weight settles in my stomach as I yank my phone out of my inner suit pocket. “Okay,” I say carefully, cupping her trembling cheek with one hand. “What are they saying?”
“They think…” She swallows hard. “They think you’re preparing to announce the engagement is over.”
For a moment, I simply stare at her. Then I exhale slowly through my nose.
Of course they do.
The media has spent weeks tearing usapart—tearingherapart. Inventing narratives around the clause faster than we could shut them down.
Every public appearance of ours in the past became a performance. Every absence became proof.
It doesn’t bode well for us that even our attendance today was a tactic.
My fingers fly over my phone, finding the damning article within seconds. My stomach sinks to the floor—even with just the fucking headline.
Astor heir vows to remove the marital clause for former flame: insider scoop on Astor-Wentworth merger collapse.
I have no idea how they got the information about me wanting to remove the stupid clause, but this once again proves my naivety. I hadn’t thought of this very plausiblemisinterpretation until just now.
Words begin to blur as I skim. The vicious ones popping out of the screen.
“…during the press conference, Levi Astor stated he would not proceed with the merger. However, sources close to the deal have provided concrete evidence that Astor’s legal counsel is working relentlessly to remove a specific clause. This timing strongly suggests the Astor heir intends to terminate his arranged marriage contract with Celestine Wentworth to pursue a former flame, who was recently photographed with him at Astor Tower (click here to view). No official statements have been released by…”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Baby,” I whisper through a dry throat. “I…”
Her eyes immediately drop. “We shouldn’t have come.”
“Just please—”
“I mean it.” She laughs weakly. “Look at me. Look atus. I can’t seem to stick with you, so I keep wandering off. Then I don’t know what people are saying half the time. I keep zoning out. I keep making things worse. You don’t needthisCece.”
“You are not making anything worse,” I tell her firmly.
“I am.” Her voice cracks. “Levi, they look at me and see exactly what I am. An impediment to a love story I don’t belong in.”
I physically recoil. “Don’t say that. Don’t talk about yourself like that.”
She shakes her head. “Why not? It’s true.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s not even close to the truth. BecauseIsee you. AndIknow exactly who you are.”
“What’s that?” she asks quietly, helplessly staring at my neck like even she doesn’t know the answer anymore.
Christ. I’d take her yelling at me. I’d take her throwing things. I’d take every cruel barb imaginable if it meant she wasn’t standing here looking so completely defeated and cornered.
“You’re Cece—”
She closes her eyes. “Which Cece?”
