Chapter 55: Exposure, Elegance & Taking Control
Selene
It starts the way all storms do—quietly.
A vibration on the nightstand. The faint chime of incoming messages. The low hum of my phone as it lights up with the kind of chaos only a well-timed leak can cause.
6:59 a.m.
One minute until we make it public.
Adrian’s arm is draped over my waist, his chest warm against my back. John’s fingers are interlaced with mine, resting over the swell of my stomach. For a few seconds, I don’t move.
Then—
7:00 a.m.
Boom.
The world finds out about Bianca.
I sit up slowly, grabbing my phone and watching the media explosion unfold in real time.
“Exclusive: Concierge Confession Uncovers Shocking Plot Behind Bianca Santiago’s Hotel Scandal.”
“Sources Confirm Relationship Between Adrian Reed, John Wickam, and Selene Montgomery—Together.”
“Three’s Not a Crowd: Power throuple Redefines Romance and Partnership.”
I read the details, heartbeat steady.
The concierge from Adrian’s hotel—bribed by Bianca. He’s come forward, immunity deal signed, full statement in hand. He delivered the drug. He let her into Adrian’s suite. She planned it all. The footage shows her entering his room. A few minutes later Adrian walks in. There is also a a recording of Bianca telling her friends the baby isn’t Adrian. She is also receiving court summons for trying to deceive Adrian as well .
The story is already everywhere.
The trap she laid is now her own.
John sits up beside me, rubbing his jaw. “Did we plan the leak this well?”
Adrian smirks, eyes still half-lidded. “No. But Jonathan did. Bastard’s better than AI.”
I exhale, letting the air escape like I’ve been holding it for years. “And us? That part of the story?”
Adrian picks up his own phone, scrolling through the press updates with a calm expression. “The relationship announcement was part of the package.”
John adds, “We didn’t want anyone else controlling the narrative. Not Bianca. Not the press. We call the shots.”
I look between them—John’s firm, strategic certainty. Adrian’s lazy confidence masking lethal intent.
“You leaked our relationship?”
Adrian reaches for my hand. “We introduced it. Carefully. Respectfully. Intentionally.”
John presses a kiss to my knuckles. “We didn’t want to hide. And we damn sure didn’t want anyone spinning it as scandal.”
“And you’re okay with this?” I whisper.
“With you?” Adrian says. “Always.”
“With us,” John adds, “we’d go to war.”
Later on we head to my place to get ready for a very public dinner as insisted by John and Adrian’s publicists.
We are in our little cacoon , Just the three of us, getting dressed—together.
John chooses a charcoal suit, no tie, collar open. Effortless power. Adrian goes with all-black everything, sleek and precise like a blade. I slip into a blood-red silk dress with a slit up one thigh and a neckline that screams, try me.
John zips me up slowly. “You sure you’re up for dinner in public?”
“I’m not just up for it,” I say, turning to face them both. “I’m craving it.”
Adrian grins. “God, you’re dangerous when you’re pissed.”
“I’m not pissed,” I say, grabbing my lipstick. “I’m precise.”
We ride in Adrian’s SUV to the restaurant.
The valet opens the car door, and cameras click before my foot even hits the pavement. I stand and almost immediately Adrian and John are on either side of me, I loop my hands with them and we walk past the paparazzi taking pictures into the restaurant.
We chose one of the busiest spots in the city. Packed. Paparazzi magnets. A-list regulars. Every seat full.
And we didn’t make a reservation.
Because we didn’t need one.
We’re escorted straight to a booth in the center of the main floor—fully visible. Every flash, every whisper, every set of eyes lands on us.
Adrian on my right.
John on my left.
Me in the middle, draped in confidence and silk, and all the expensive jewelry they have both bought for me .
The hostess tries to hide her stare. The server’s hands shake as she pours water. People pretend not to look or rather gawk at us . They fail.
The murmurs begin.
“That’s her…”
“They’re all together…”
“Did you see the news this morning?”
I take a sip of my drink and lean in toward both men. “We’re trending.”
John’s eyes sparkle. “Good. We like headlines.”
Adrian’s voice is low and lethal. “Let them watch. Let them write. Just make sure they spell your name right.”
We order wine—well, they do. I get sparkling water with lime and zero regrets. The food is good, but none of us are really here to eat.
We’re here to be seen.
To shift the narrative in real time.
To show the world that the trap Bianca set only forged something stronger.
She tried to tear us apart.
Instead, we’ve chosen to stand taller. Louder. Together.
After Dinner – Outside the Restaurant
The paparazzi are waiting.
Adrian steps out first, a hand raised toward the flashes—not to stop them, but to welcome the chaos.
John helps me out next, and the cameras double their frenzy. Then Adrian offers his arm, and I take it. John takes my other side.
Three people.
One story.
Ours.
I don’t smile.
I don’t need to.
They’ll write what they want.
But we’ve already said what matters.
We choose this.
Us.
Fully, publicly, irrevocably. And more importantly unapologetically. We are won't be embarrassed about our relationship... after all neither of us have ever conformed to societies standards.