Chapter 84

Zoya's POV

Backstage, the noise from the conference hall faded, leaving only the hum of fluorescent lights. Olivia stood a few feet away, speaking quietly with Ezra and Anthony. She looked exhausted, the mask she'd worn for the press cracking at the edges.

I stayed back, unsure if I should approach her. Part of me wanted to tell her I meant every word I said out there. That I'd do it again, no matter the cost.

But another part of me hesitated. Because no matter how much I wanted to protect her, I couldn't ignore the feeling that this was far from over.

The sharp ding of my phone pulled me from sleep, the glare of the screen cutting through the darkness of my room. I squinted at the notification and felt my stomach twist.

"Olivia Lopez Struggles to Defend Her Marriage Amid Scandal—Zoya El Deeb Rushes to Her Rescue. But Why?"

My chest tightened as I read the words over and over, each one sinking deeper like a stone. It wasn't just the headline. The accompanying photo was from the press conference—me, leaning forward, my expression fierce as I defended Olivia. Olivia sitting beside me, her face frozen in a mix of exhaustion and unease.

I swiped to the article, scanning the paragraphs that twisted everything we said.

'When asked about her relationship with Ms. El Deeb, Lopez appeared hesitant, struggling to provide a convincing denial. Her lack of clarity only fueled speculation, leaving many wondering if the rumors are more than just whispers.'

'El Deeb's passionate defense of Lopez only added fuel to the fire. Her strong reaction raises the question: what exactly is she trying to protect?'

The phone shook in my hands, and I tossed it onto the bed, unable to read more. My pulse was racing, my mind spinning with what this would mean—not just for me, but for Olivia.

Olivia's POV

I stared at the laptop screen, the headline glaring back at me. Anthony had texted me the link with no explanation, and I hadn't stopped reading it since.

"Lopez's silence about her marriage and El Deeb's dramatic outburst paint a troubling picture. Is there more to their relationship than they're letting on? And how will her husband, Elijah Lopez, cope with the mounting pressure as he recovers from his recent hospitalization?"

I slammed the laptop shut, my hands trembling. My stomach churned with a mix of anger and guilt.

A knock at the door broke through my spiraling thoughts. "Come in," I called, my voice sharper than I intended.

The door creaked open, and Zoya stepped inside. She looked as tired as I felt, her hair pulled back into a messy bun and dark circles shadowing her eyes.

"You saw it?" she asked, her voice low.

I nodded, my jaw tightening. "Of course, I saw it. Everyone has by now."

Zoya hesitated, hovering near the door like she wasn't sure if she should come closer. "I'm sorry," she said finally. "I didn't mean to make things worse."

"It's not your fault," I said, though the tension in my voice betrayed me. "You were trying to help. But now they're twisting everything, and it's just... it's a disaster."

Zoya stepped further into the room, her brows furrowed. "They would've twisted your words no matter what you said, Olivia. At least this way, they know someone's in your corner."

Her words stung more than I wanted to admit. Because deep down, I didn't feel like anyone was in my corner—not really.

I crossed my arms, turning away. "It doesn't matter. They're just going to keep talking, and Elijah..." My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard, trying to push the thought away.

"Elijah will understand," Zoya said softly.

I whipped around, my frustration spilling over. "You don't know that, Zoya. You don't know what this is doing to him—or to me!"

She flinched, but her gaze didn't waver. "You're right. I don't know. But I know you don't have to go through it alone."

Her words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning I couldn't unpack. I wanted to believe her, but trusting Zoya felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. One wrong step, and I'd lose everything.

I exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over my face. "This has to stop," I said, my voice quieter now. "The headlines, the questions, all of it. It's too much."

Zoya nodded, her expression softening. "Then let's figure it out. Together."

I didn't answer, but as I looked at her—standing there, unshaken despite everything