Chapter 83

Chapter 83
Zoya's POV

I leaned against the wall, watching Olivia pace the room like a caged animal. Her frustration was palpable, and I couldn't blame her. The idea of a press conference felt like walking into a battlefield with no armor.

"This is insane," she muttered, running a hand through her hair.

"I know," I said quietly.

She stopped, turning to face me. "Then why didn't you say anything? You just stood there and let him railroad us into this."

I hesitated, unsure how to explain the knot of unease in my chest. "Because... he's not entirely wrong. The rumors aren't going away. And maybe if we face them head-on, we can put an end to this."
"Or we make it worse," she shot back, her voice rising.

I looked away, unable to meet her eyes. "Maybe. But what's the alternative, Olivia? We keep ignoring it, and the whispers just get louder? At least this way, we have a chance to control the damage."

She exhaled sharply, sinking onto the couch. "I just... I don't know who to trust anymore."

Her words hit me harder than I expected, and for a moment, I thought about telling her everything—about the shadow outside my window, the doubts swirling in my mind about Ezra and Anthony. But I stopped myself.

"You don't have to trust Ezra," I said instead, my voice soft but firm. "Just... trust me."

Her gaze met mine, and for a moment, the anger in her expression softened. She didn't say anything, but the look in her eyes said enough.

The room felt suffocating. Rows of reporters filled every corner, their cameras flashing and pens poised like weapons. The air buzzed with anticipation, a storm waiting to break.

I sat at the table beside Olivia , with Ezra  at the podium and Anthony  seated on her other side. Olivia looked composed, her back straight and her hands neatly folded on the table. But I could feel the tension radiating off her, a silent hum of restrained anxiety.

Ezra's voice carried over the room, smooth and confident. "Thank you all for being here today. Before we open the floor to questions, I want to address the recent rumors that have circulated regarding members of our cast. These rumors are baseless, unfounded, and frankly, disrespectful to the incredible work being done here."

He paused, letting the words settle over the crowd. "This team is focused on delivering a story that resonates with audiences, and I would urge everyone to keep the conversation where it belongs—on the art, not on personal lives."

The first question came almost immediately.

"Mr. Bennett," a reporter called from the front row, "you've stated the rumors are baseless, but can you confirm if any internal investigation was conducted to validate that claim?"

Ezra's smile didn't falter. "Our focus has been on ensuring a professional and supportive environment for the cast and crew. There's no evidence to support the rumors, and frankly, it's a waste of energy to give them further attention."

Another hand shot up, this time targeting Olivia. "Ms. Lopez," the reporter said, her voice sharp, "how do you respond to allegations that your relationship with Ms. El Deeb extends beyond the professional? And how has this impacted your marriage?"

I felt Olivia tense beside me, her fingers curling into her lap. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, just long enough for the silence to feel damning.

"As Ezra said," she began, her voice steady but icy, "the rumors are completely unfounded. Zoya is my colleague, and we maintain a professional relationship. That's all there is to it."

The reporter wasn't satisfied. "Given your husband's recent hospitalization, do you think these rumors have damaged your public image or created instability in your personal life?"

Olivia opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

The words were out of my mouth before I could think. "With all due respect," I said, my voice sharper than I intended, "Olivia's personal life is not up for public dissection. She's here as a professional, and her focus has been on delivering her best work despite the challenges she's faced. Maybe we should show her a little respect instead of chasing headlines."

The room fell silent, the collective weight of dozens of eyes turning toward me. My heart pounded in my chest, but I held my ground, my gaze steady.

"Ms. El Deeb," another reporter chimed in, clearly unfazed. "Are you denying the rumors outright?"

I clenched my fists under the table, forcing my voice to remain steady. "I am. These rumors are baseless and harmful. They distract from the work we're doing and the stories we're trying to tell. I would appreciate it if we could focus on that instead of perpetuating gossip."

Beside me, Olivia exhaled softly, and her hand brushed mine for the briefest of moments—a silent acknowledgment.

Ezra stepped in again, his tone commanding. "Let's move on to questions about the show, please. That's why we're here today."

Olivia's POV

I couldn't breathe. The weight of the cameras, the endless questions—it was too much. But then Zoya spoke, her voice cutting through the noise with a strength I didn't know she had.

I glanced at her, stunned by her words. She'd stepped in without hesitation, shielding me from the storm when I couldn't find the strength to do it myself.

"Thank you," I whispered, so quietly I wasn't sure she even heard me.

The rest of the conference blurred together. Ezra managed to steer the conversation back to the show, but the tension never fully dissipated. Even as the questions shifted to safer topics, the damage had already been done.

When it was finally over, I felt like I'd run a marathon. My legs felt weak as I stood, and I barely noticed the murmurs of the reporters as we left the room.