Chapter 30 THE MEDIA STORM
POV: Selena
My phone does not stop vibrating.
It keeps buzzing against my palm, against the mattress, against my nerves, until it feels like the sound is inside my head. Alerts pile on top of each other so fast that I cannot read them all. News apps. Social media. Messages from numbers I do not recognize. I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the screen, my chest tight and my throat burning.
Adrian is already awake now. He is standing near the window, phone pressed to his ear, his jaw locked so hard I can see the muscle twitch. I do not need to hear what the person on the other end is saying to know it is bad. The way his shoulders are pulled tight tells me everything.
I open one article. Then another. Then another.
Photos of him outside my apartment. Him knocking on my door. Him stepping inside. Him leaving in the early morning. Each picture is cropped and framed to tell a story I do not recognize. Headlines scream words like affair, scandal, manipulation. They call me an intern like it is a crime. They call me ambitious like it is dirty. They call me calculated, desperate, predatory.
Gold digger.
Social climber.
Seductress.
My hands start to shake so badly I have to set the phone down.
“I am so sorry,” Adrian says suddenly, his voice low and furious as he ends the call. He crosses the room in three long strides and kneels in front of me, taking my hands. “This is my fault. I should have known they would do this.”
I laugh, but it comes out wrong. Thin. Broken. “They were waiting,” I say. “All we did was give them something to use.”
He shakes his head. “No. They were waiting for a chance to hurt you.”
I look up at him. “Then they succeeded.”
He cups my face gently, like last night, but everything feels different now. His eyes are full of anger, yes, but also fear. Real fear. The kind that comes when you realize how little control you actually have.
“We will fix this,” he says. “I promise.”
Another alert flashes across my screen.
Diana Ashford Exclusive Interview.
I tap it before I can stop myself.
Her face fills the screen, flawless and tearful, her voice trembling just enough to sound convincing. She talks about betrayal. About heartbreak. About how she trusted Adrian and believed in their future. She never says my name, but she does not have to. The anchor supplies it for her. Intern Selena Morales. Young. Ambitious. Close to the family.
“She is lying,” I whisper.
“I know,” Adrian says immediately. “Everyone who knows me knows.”
“That is not who this is for,” I say. “It is for people who want someone to blame.”
My phone vibrates again.
This time, it is a message from my mother.
Mija, are you okay? Someone sent me something strange.
My heart drops into my stomach.
Before I can respond, another alert pops up.
A different headline. Smaller. Meaner.
Like Mother, Like Daughter.
I click it.
The photo loads slowly, one line at a time, like the world is deliberately trying to hurt me. It is my mother. Rosa Morales. Bent slightly as she wipes down a kitchen counter. Her hair pulled back. Her uniform plain. The caption underneath is cruel and sharp.
Both Serve the Rich.
I stop breathing.
The room tilts. My ears ring. Something hot and blinding rushes through my chest, replacing the fear with something else entirely.
Rage.
They did not stop at me.
They went after her.
“I am going to destroy whoever did this,” I say.
My voice does not shake. It is steady and cold and unfamiliar. Adrian stiffens as he hears it.
“Selena,” he says carefully. “Look at me.”
I do not. I am staring at the screen, at my mother’s face turned into a weapon. “They crossed a line.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “And we will handle it. But not like this.”
I finally look up at him. “You do not understand. They do not get to humiliate her. She worked her whole life to give me more than this.”
He stands and pulls me into his chest, holding me tight. “Then we fight smart. Together.”
The next few hours blur into noise and movement. Phones ringing. Lawyers talking. Marcus pacing. Statements drafted and redrafted. Adrian argues with his father on speakerphone and ends the call abruptly when the conversation turns cold.
My mother arrives just before noon.
She steps into my apartment slowly, clutching her purse, her eyes tired and confused. When she sees my face, her own crumples.
“Mija,” she says softly. “I did not tell them anything. I swear.”
I cross the room and hold her. “I know. You did nothing wrong.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me. “Why are they saying these things about you?”
I swallow hard. “Because they are afraid.”
She looks past me at Adrian. She does not flinch. She studies him quietly, like she always studies people, then nods once. “Then they chose the wrong family.”
Adrian lowers his head slightly. Respect. Gratitude. Guilt. All of it passes across his face.
By afternoon, my name is everywhere.
My past. My school. My job. Old photos pulled out of context. Every success twisted into proof of manipulation. Every silence treated like guilt.
I stop scrolling when my hands start to tremble again.
“They want a reaction,” Marcus says firmly. “We do not give them one yet.”
I take a slow breath. “No. We give them the truth. But not until it hurts.”
Adrian looks at me sharply. “What are you thinking?”
“I am done hiding,” I say. “They wanted a villain. I will give them a reckoning instead.”
Night falls without warning.
The city lights flicker on, indifferent to the chaos they illuminate. I sit at the table with my laptop open, documents spread around me. Jessica Martinez. Sarah Chen. Cameron Price. Patterns emerge when you stare long enough.
This is not random.
This is retaliation.
Adrian stands behind me, his hands resting on the back of my chair. “Once we release this, there is no going back.”
I nod. “They already took everything they could from me.”
He leans down, his voice close to my ear. “They underestimated you.”
I glance up at him. “So did you.”
A small smile touches his mouth, then disappears. “Never again.”
My phone buzzes one more time.
Unknown number.
I answer it.
“You should have stayed quiet,” the voice says, distorted and cold. “This is only the beginning.”
I hang up without responding.
I look at Adrian. “They are scared.”
He nods. “Good.”
I close the laptop slowly, deliberately.
“Then let us give them something worth being afraid of.”
Outside, sirens wail in the distance. Inside, the calm before the storm settles around us.
And this time, I am ready.