Chapter 39 The Interview
Aurora:
The penthouse had been transformed. Where the twins’ toys usually lay scattered, there was now a forest of lighting rigs and sound booms. A sleek, modern sofa had replaced our usual armchairs, positioned against a backdrop that showcased the glittering city skyline through the panoramic windows.
A calculated display of opulent wealth and privacy.
The air crackled with a tense, professional energy. The small, elite crew from the network moved with practiced efficiency, but under the silent, watchful gaze of Jax and Rylan. Every single person, from the sound technician to the makeup artist, had been vetted three times over by Lucas. It was a necessary invasion, turning our sanctuary into a soundstage for one night only.
The lights were a special kind of heat, a dry, baking intensity that felt like standing under a focused sun. Beneath the crisp navy of my blazer, my skin was clammy. Levi sat beside me, his posture deceptively relaxed.
Only I could see the subtle tension in the line of his jaw, feel the controlled-energy hum of the bond between us. It wasn't panic; it was the focused stillness of a predator ensuring his territory was secure.
Sarah Harper, the celebrated journalist, offered a reassuring smile from her chair opposite us. Her presence was the one element we had insisted on, known for her empathy, but more importantly, her discretion.
"Quiet on set! We're live in thirty seconds!"
Maggie, a stark contrast to the crew in her vibrant dress, watched from the periphery, her expression a mix of fierce pride and naked anxiety. She gave me a sharp, confident nod.
You own this.
"Alright, and we're live in five, four..." The floor director's fingers counted down silently. Three, two, one.
"Welcome," Sarah began, her voice warm as she faced the camera. "Tonight, we are speaking exclusively from the private residence of Levi Kingston and Aurora Anderson. Thank you both for inviting us into your home."
"Thank you for coming," Levi said, his voice a low, steady rumble that seemed to vibrate through my own bones.
Sarah’s gaze swept the room appreciatively. "It's a stunning home, but one feels the… security. The privacy. Which leads to the first question. Why break that privacy now?"
Levi fielded it, his gaze steady. "Protection," he said, the word simple and absolute. "My world attracts a certain kind of attention. When we learned Aurora was pregnant, our priority became a shield of normalcy for our children. The anonymity was intentional."
"And yet," Sarah pressed gently, turning to me, "that shield is now gone. You've chosen this moment to step into the spotlight. Why now?"
This was my cue. I leaned forward slightly, letting my hands rest calmly in my lap. "Because the whispers and the threats were starting to poison the very normalcy we built," I said, my voice clear. "Someone began leveraging our secrecy as a weapon, suggesting our family was something shameful, or an unsafe environment for our children. We decided the only way to disarm that was with the truth. Our family isn't a scandal. It's the reason for everything we do."
I felt Levi's approval through the bond, a warm, steadying wave.
Sarah nodded. "Aurora, you've built a career on holding the powerful to account. How do you reconcile that with being married to one of the most powerful men in the country?"
I allowed a small, genuine smile. "I believe accountability is what you do with power, not who you are. I'm still the same journalist. I still ask the hard questions." I glanced at Levi, a flicker of wry amusement in my eyes. "In fact, I'm probably the only person who asks them at the breakfast table."
A soft, appreciative murmur came from the crew. Levi's lips quirked in a barely-there smile, a look of such fondness, it felt startlingly real.
"It's true," he conceded, the picture of an exasperated but devoted husband. "She keeps me honest."
The conversation flowed. We spoke of the twins, painting a picture of a real, vibrant family.
Then Sarah addressed the elephant in the room. "Levi, almost immediately after your announcement, Senator Mickealson—who your company has always rumoured to have close ties with—made a public statement expressing 'profound concern' about the 'clandestine nature' of your family and the 'potential instability' it introduces. He specifically questioned the environment for the children. How do you respond to that?"
The air tightened. Levi's expression didn't change, but I felt the protective surge through our bond. He looked directly into the camera.
"My family is Aurora, Aria, and Lior," he stated, his voice leaving no room for ambiguity. "I find it interesting that a public servant, who has never met my children, feels qualified to question the safety and love they are surrounded by in their own home. Our priority has always been protecting them from external threats, whatever form they may take."
It was a masterstroke. He didn't attack. He simply drew a line, defining his family on his own terms.
Just as the interview was winding down, a perfectly timed, delightful coincidence occurred. Aria, drawn by the lights, peeked around the corner of the hallway, her stuffed rabbit clutched in her hand. She didn't speak, just stared with wide, curious eyes before a gently smiling Rylan guided her back out of sight.
The unscripted moment was pure gold. Sarah’s face softened. "It seems the most important critics are already in residence."
The "on air" light died. The second the crew began breaking down their equipment, the penthouse's defensive atmosphere reasserted itself.
Maggie rushed over, ecstatic. "Perfect! You were both perfect! That moment with Aria? The universe provided!"
Levi was quiet, his eyes on me. He waited until Maggie was pulled away by a producer before stepping closer.
"You were… magnificent," he said, his voice low and for my ears only. The intensity in his gaze was different now. It wasn't about strategy or protection. It was pure, unadulterated awe.
The performance was over. The cameras were off. But the look in his eyes felt more real than anything we had just shown the world.
We had won a battle in the court of public opinion, but in the quiet of our fortress, it felt like we had won something far more significant between us.
A small, but profound victory.