Chapter 82 Morning Storm
He rose up, stripping his shirt over his head in one motion. Pants followed. Then boxers. He was hard, thick, flushed pink at the tip. My mouth watered.
He knelt between my legs again, guiding himself to my entrance. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered.
I nodded, breathless.
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching me, filling me. When he bottomed out we both groaned. He held still, letting me adjust, forehead pressed to mine.
“You’re taking it so well,” he breathed. “My perfect mate.
Then he started moving, gentle, rolling thrusts, deep but careful. Every stroke dragged against that perfect spot inside me. His mouth found mine again, kissing me through each slow glide. One hand cradled the back of my head; the other splayed over my stomach, protective, reverent.
“I’m taking it easy,” he murmured against my lips. “Don’t want to hurt our pup.”
I smiled, eyes stinging with sudden emotion. “I know.”
He kept the rhythm steady, deep, measured, building slowly. My legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back. Pleasure coiled tighter, hotter. His breathing grew ragged; his thrusts lost their perfect control.
When I clenched around him he groaned, burying his face in my neck. “Maddie…”
I shattered again, hard, pulsing, crying out his name. He followed seconds later, hips stuttering, a low, broken sound in his throat as he spilled inside me.
He collapsed over me, careful not to crush me, breathing hard against my shoulder. After a moment he rolled us so I lay draped across his chest, his arms tight around me.
We stayed like that, sweaty, sated, hearts pounding in tandem.
He kissed my temple. “Sleep, love.”
I pressed my face to his neck, smiling into his skin.
The phone buzzed sharply on the nightstand, cutting through the soft haze of sleep. I stirred first, blinking against the pale morning light slipping between the curtains. Alexander groaned beside me, arm still draped across my waist, face half-buried in the pillow. The vibration continued, insistent, professional.
He reached over blindly, fingers closing around the device. “Hello?”
He pressed the speaker without thinking, voice rough with sleep. “Why are you calling me this early?”
A crisp, slightly panicked voice filled the room. “Sir, it’s past nine a.m. You need to check the news. Someone leaked to the press that you’re having an affair with your daughter-in-law. It’s trending. Share price dropped 7.57 percent in the last few minutes. There are pictures backing up the claims.”
My eyes snapped open. Pictures. My heart slammed against my ribs. I sat up fast, sheet pooling around my waist. If my face was out there, school hallways, campus cafés, social media comments, I could already feel the stares, the whispers, the judgment.
Alexander’s hand found my thigh, squeezing once, steady, grounding. “Whose face is shown in the pictures?”
“No one’s clear, sir. It’s mostly you. From behind, side angles. We all suspect they’re doctored, but the media doesn’t care. It’s spreading fast.”
Alexander exhaled through his nose. “Arrange a press conference. One hour. I’ll be at the office as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir. We’re already drafting…”
He ended the call mid-sentence and dropped the phone onto the mattress like it burned. Then he turned to me, expression calm but eyes fierce.
I was already shaking. “Pictures. What if…”
“You don’t have to worry,” he said, voice low and certain. “I’ll handle it. And I’ll handle Ben. I’ve wasted enough time letting him play games.”
I reached for my phone on the nightstand, fingers trembling. “I need to see…”
He caught my wrist gently. “Don’t, I know how brutal the media can be, the comments especially, I don’t want you reading them.”
“But I need to know if my face is out there,” I whispered. “If people at school see…”
He exhaled, then picked up his own phone instead. “I’ll look. On my device.”
He ignored the flood of missed calls and notifications, investors, board members, PR team, and opened a browser. I watched his face as he scrolled. His jaw tightened once. Then he huffed a short, humorless laugh.
“Not us,” he said, turning the screen toward me.
The first photo: Alexander walking through a high-end department store, hand on the small of my back. My face wasn’t visible, shot from behind, my head turned away. The second: him hugging me in the foyer the day I came home exhausted, again from an angle that hid my features. The third: clearly photoshopped, him in a hotel bed, sheets low on his hips, a blurred female form curled against him, no identifiable face. Just an implication.
I stared. “We’ve never even been to a hotel together.”
“Exactly.” He locked the screen and tossed the phone aside. “Doctored, sloppy work, but enough to stir panic.”
I pulled my knees to my chest. “What if someone figures out it’s me? Nobody at school knows I married Ben, except Sophia and Clara.”
Alexander stood, already reaching for yesterday’s shirt on the chair. “Then you stay home today, study here. I’ll go handle it.”
He pulled the shirt over his head, movements efficient. “I’ll be home late. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said automatically. “Fix it. I’ll be fine.”
His phone started ringing again, sharp, demanding. He glanced at the screen, jaw tight. “I have to take this.”
I nodded. “Go.”
He leaned down, kissed my forehead, firm, lingering, then walked out, already answering the call. The door clicked shut behind him.
Silence rushed back in.
I reached for my phone before I could talk myself out of it.
The headline screamed across every major site: Billionaire CEO Alexander Blackwood in Scandalous Affair with Son’s Wife – Exclusive Photos
I scrolled.
The photos were exactly what he’d shown me, perfectly angled to hide identities while screaming guilt. The article quoted “anonymous sources” claiming Alexander seduced his daughter in law, and that Ben was “devastated.”
The comments were worse.
“Gold-digger whore.”
“Disgusting. How could she do that to her own husband?”
“Rich people are all the same. No morals.”
“Ben deserves better.”
My stomach rolled. I kept scrolling, looking for any clear shot of my face. Nothing. They’d been careful, or lucky. But the speculation was everywhere. My name wasn’t mentioned yet, but “daughter-in-law” was trending. Someone would connect it eventually.
The group chat with Sophia and Clara lit up.
Sophia: Maddie are you okay?? It’s everywhere.
Clara: GIRL. WHAT THE HELL. Are those pics real??
Sophia: Obviously not. But people are believing it.
Clara: We’re coming over after class. Don’t leave the estate.
Sophia: Seriously. Stay put. We’ve got you.
I typed back with shaking fingers: I’m okay. My face isn’t showing. Alexander’s handling it. Please don’t worry.
They replied instantly, heart emojis, promises to bring snacks, threats to fight anyone who said anything in class.
I set the phone down and pulled my knees tighter to my chest.
The house felt too quiet, too big, I could hear distant voices downstairs, Clara directing staff, security on their radios. Normal morning sounds. But nothing felt normal.
I stayed like that for a long time, curled in the center of the bed that still smelled like Alexander, trying to breathe through the panic.
Eventually I forced myself to stand. Shower. Dress. Eat something because of my baby.