AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And then there’s me. Sitting here, twiddling my thumbs. I can’t stand it.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask anxiously. I’ve already seen the pictures online, the way they’ve painted me as an unfaithful seductress. The only thing that boils my blood more is my inaction. I have to dosomething. I refuse to stand by while someone out there thinks they can tarnish not only my name, but Pyotr’s as well.
“Just relax,” Pyotr tells me. His voice takes a much gentler turn when he addresses me, a stark contrast to all the yelling he’s been doing for the past hour and a half. “Why don’t you treat yourself to a bath? Make sure all the curtains are drawn.”
I nod numbly. As unproductive as a bath sounds, it does sound lovely.
It feels so strange moving about the penthouse. Every step I take is unsure. I can’t make a move without wondering if someone out there is watching me. It’s suffocating, the heavy weight of eyes that may or may not be there crushing down on my shoulders. Your home is supposed to be the one place you feel safe and secure, but that’s all been taken from me. For what reasons, I can’t be sure—and that’s the truly insidious part.
I draw myself a bath and triple check to make sure there aren’t any cracks in the curtains. My paranoia is through the roof. It’s obvious whoever took my picture was willing to go to great lengths to get them. Who knows what other horrendous tricks they’ll resort to?
I scroll through my phone as I slip out of my clothes and step into the water. It sloshes against the high sides of the clawfoot tub, the steam filling my lungs like a much-needed balm. I know it’s probably not good to doom scroll, but I can’t help it. My pictures areeverywhere. No matter where I turn, people are not only talking about me, but Pyotr as well.
AnonyMouse123: lol ewww what’s they’re age gap??? #canceled #cyberfortisoverparty
User12304: that’s what happens when u marry a floozy
IngridB420: she’s hawt, i’d tap that
KirriganHorner: omg guys mind your own business!
Pipipopo69: LMAO cheating under his own roof, too. Daammmnn
NellyFan4Life: what a stupid slut hope he got a good prenup
JorpenWasHere: i’d marry for the cyberfort money too lololol
I grit my teeth. It’d be easy to get upset with random strangers on the internet, but I try not to let it consume me. They don’t know what’s going on, nor do they even know me. It’s just words… even if theydohurt.
I keep scrolling, following a never-ending trail of links until I stumble upon a recent article about CyberFort itself. It’s not flattering. If anything, the journalist has used this entire situation as an opportunity to tear into Pyotr’s company. From its dip in profits last quarter to its product’s stagnation in an ever-competitive market to complaints from independent contractors concerning low payment rates… It’s a slanderous piece of work that never cites its sources, but it has almost ten thousand views and counting.
That’s not what scares me the most, though. Pyotr and I still have our immigration interview to worry about. If we don’t get ahead of this thing… If we give our interviewer any reason to doubt the legitimacy of our marriage, I might wind up with a one-way ticket back home. The thought of slinking back to Mother makes me shudder. I can’t let that happen. I just can’t.
There’s a knock at my bathroom door.
“Are you alright in there?” Pyotr asks from the other side.
I fight the temptation to cover myself up. It’s an unconscious reaction, but one I’m learning to overwrite all the same. I tuck my knees up to my chest. “Come in.”
Pyotr enters my ensuite bathroom and closes the door, his eyes drifting down to my naked form. There’s something appreciative in the way he looks at me, like he’s admiring a work of art. He approaches slowly and kneels next to the tub, resting his arms on the edge. When he sees what I’ve been reading on my phone, his brows crinkle.
“Give it to me,” he says, not unkindly.
I do as he asks. He doesn’t even glance at the article, instead shutting my phone off and setting it aside on the nearest counter.
“Ignore stuff like that,” he says.
“How?”
“You’ll learn to grow a thick skin.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“The website’s taking the pictures down, but it might be too late. They won’t reveal their source, either. Something about protecting their identities to promote free and fair journalism.”
“What a load of horseshit,” I grumble.
“That’s what I said. Still, the moment I mentioned a libel suit, they took the article down quickly.”
