Chapter 36: The Switchable Smile
The first ping came at 6:42 a.m.
Then another.
And another.
By the time I reached for my phone, the sound had become a storm — messages lighting the screen faster than I could blink. My stomach knotted even before I looked.
Then I saw the headline.
Billionaire’s Wife in a Secret Affair? Exclusive Photos Raise Questions About Eve Grayson’s Marriage.
My thumb froze over the glass.
Beneath the headline were three photos — grainy but clear enough to kill me.
My hand on Sebastian’s arm.
Their faces close in the shadows.
The two of us stood by the car as though we had something to hide.
The caption beneath was worse than the images themselves:
Sources close to the family confirm tensions within the Grayson household following the CEO’s memory loss and recent paternity scandal.
My lungs refused to work. For a moment I didn’t even move. The screen dimmed, darkened, and reflected my own pale face back at me.
“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no…”
I dropped the phone on the counter, grabbed it again, trying to will the story away — but it had already spread. The gossip accounts had reposted it. Blogs were picking it up. Hashtags are forming like blood trails across social media.
My phone rang. Unknown number. I didn’t answer. Another call came through. Then another.
When the third one buzzed, I thought about letting it ring — until I saw the name:
Sebastian.
I answered in a whisper. “What did you do?”
“What—Eve, I didn’t—”
“Then how are there pictures?!”
His voice came fast, strained. “I don’t know. I didn’t tell anyone. I swear. I kept everything quiet—”
“Someone was watching us,” she cut in. “Someone was there, Sebastian. Those photos are from last night.”
A pause. Then a low curse. “Emily.”
The name landed like a blade.
Of course. Of course it was her.
My knees went weak. I pressed my back against the counter, closing my eyes. “She’s not going to stop.”
“Then we hit back,” Sebastian said. “Let me handle this. I’ll find out who sold the photos. I still have a few people—”
“No.” My voice sharpened, surprising even myself. “This time I’ll handle it.”
“Eve—”
“She’s not just after my husband anymore, Sebastian. She’s after me. My name, my family, my life. She wants to bury me, and I’m done running from her.”
The silence on the line carried something heavier than doubt — a strange respect. “Then tell me what you need.”
I opened my mouth to answer—
The front door slammed.
My blood turned to ice.
“Eve?” Gabriel’s voice cut through the house, rough, raw, and furious.
Sebastian said my name again through the phone, but I didn’t hear him. My body moved on instinct — I ended the call, shoved the phone in my pocket, and stepped into the hallway.
Gabriel stood there, holding his own phone in one hand. The screen glowed with the same headline. His expression was unreadable — not rage exactly, not heartbreak either. Something colder.
“Gabriel—” I started, but he held up a hand.
“Don’t.”
The word landed like a slap.
“I just woke up to the entire internet calling my wife a cheater.” His voice was low and steady — the kind of calm that meant danger. “And the man in those pictures is the same one who keeps texting you in secret.”
“It’s not what it looks like,” I said quickly. “I swear, I was—”
“Working with him? Behind my back?”
My mouth opened. Closed. The truth — the real truth — was impossible to explain. I couldn’t tell him about Sebastian digging into Emily’s fake pregnancy or about the information he’d uncovered. Not without admitting I’d been hiding something again.
“I was trying to protect you,” I whispered.
Gabriel let out a harsh laugh — one without any humour. “That’s what everyone says right before they stab you in the back.”
My heart cracked at the sound.
“Gabriel, please. You know me. You know I would never—”
He took a step closer, the air between them charged and brittle. “Then tell me the truth. Every part of it. No lies. No half-stories.”
My pulse pounded in my ears.
I could tell him everything now — or lose him again.
I drew in a shaky breath. “Emily’s pregnancy. It’s fake. Sebastian found proof—”
But I never finished the sentence.
Because Gabriel’s phone buzzed again. He looked down, jaw locking.
Then he turned the screen toward me.
A new message. From Emily.
Don’t believe her. I have proof she’s been with him for months.
Attached below: a new photo.
I and Sebastian — hugging. The shot from the night of the crash.
Gabriel’s eyes lifted to mine, shadowed, exhausted, cold. “I’m done.”
And before I could stop him, he walked out the door.
—
The air outside hit him like ice.
Too bright. Too loud.
Too much.
Gabriel didn’t remember getting into the car — only the sound of the door slamming and the roar of the engine as he peeled away from the house.
Headlights blurred. The city bled past in streaks of gold and grey. He wasn’t thinking — or maybe he was thinking too much.
Every image fought for space in his head: my pleading face, the photos, and Emily’s message.
The way I had said, ‘She’s lying’ — desperate, like someone cornered.
But lies always sounded like desperation, didn’t they?
He gripped the steering wheel tighter. The leather cut against his palms.
He didn’t want to believe me. He wanted to. God, he did. But every time he tried, something inside twisted — the part that whispered I was hiding something else.
The accident had stolen his memories, but it hadn’t erased his instincts. And his instincts screamed one thing:
He was being played. Again.
He didn’t even realise where he was going until the car stopped itself — muscle memory steering him where his mind refused to.
A glass tower.
The Grayson Holdings headquarters.
The place he used to live more than his own home.
And standing at the base of the steps, like she’d known he’d come, was Emily.
Perfect. Polished. Dangerous.
Her coat fluttered in the wind, her expression softening the second she saw him. “Gabriel?”
His chest went tight. “How did you know I’d be here?”
She smiled faintly. “You always come here when you’re angry.”
The words hit too close. Familiar in a way he didn’t want to understand.
She took a step closer, hands folded in front of her, voice trembling just enough to sound sincere. “I didn’t want to send that message, but I couldn’t keep watching her lie to you. Not again. You deserve honesty, Gabriel.”
He laughed once — sharp, bitter. “Honesty? You?”
Her eyes shimmered, and for a fleeting second, the practised cracks in her performance looked real. “I know I’m the last person you want to trust. But you don’t have to trust me. Just look at the evidence.”
She pulled a slim envelope from her purse and held it out. “These are the originals. The photos, timestamps, everything. I didn’t take them — someone else did. Someone close to her.”
He didn’t move to take it.
“You think I’m just going to—”
“Gabriel.” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You know I loved you. You know I still do. But this isn’t about that anymore. This is about her trying to make a fool out of you.”
The envelope brushed against his chest. Her perfume hit next — sweet, deliberate. His jaw clenched.
He took the envelope. Against his better judgment. Against the heat crawling up his throat.
“Read it,” she murmured. “Then decide who’s lying.”
He turned away. “Don’t think you can use this—”
“I’m not using anything.”
The way she said it almost broke him. Soft. Trembling. Convincing.
He opened the car door. “Go home, Emily.”
“Gabriel.”
He froze, his hand on the doorframe.
Her next words slid through the air like a blade.
“You told me once that she’d never forgive you if she knew what you did before the crash.”
His heartbeat stalled.
Slowly, he turned back toward her. “What did you just say?”
Emily smiled. The kind of smile that hid a thousand knives.
“See?” she whispered. “You do remember.”