Damian stood by the window in his bedroom, phone pressed to his ear, the city lights below flickering like distant fires. His jaw was tight, his free hand clenched in his pocket.

“So what if it’s a contract?” Grandma Eleanor’s voice came through firm and unbothered. “Since when did the Cross family start explaining their lives to strangers?”

Damian exhaled slowly. “Grandma… you know I fear nobody. Public opinion has never mattered to me.” He paused, his voice lowering. “But this isn’t just about me anymore.”

“And that is?” she asked gently.

“Aria,” he said immediately. “The Carter Group. They’re dragging her name through the mud. Calling her a gold...