Page 80 of In Love With Mr. Wrong

“Is that for me, or the other Evans in the room?” I ask, nodding to the coffee.

He sets both mugs on the side table and bends low to press a kiss to my stomach. “You’re sharing now, baby girl,” he murmurs, then straightens and kisses me slower. Deeper. Like the world isn’t falling apart outside these walls.

“You know she’s going to be the one running this place by the time she’s five, right?” I murmur against his lips.

He smirks. “Only if she inherits your terrifying ability to negotiate while hormonal.”

“I’m not hormonal. I’m pregnant. There’s a difference.”

“Sure,” he says, taking a sip of coffee and raising one brow. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“I’m not sleeping. Because someone keeps reading news headlines aloud at 3 a.m. like we’re starring in our own horror film.”

He sobers slightly, the smile on his face dimming but not disappearing. “I’m sorry. I just... couldn’t stop reading.”

“I know.”

And I do. Because Eleanor didn’t just release a press teaser, she detonated a legacy.

***

By the time we arrive at headquarters, the air insidePerfectly Matchedfeels tighter, charged with something that rides the line between fear and adrenaline. The building is quieter than usual, as if people are tiptoeing around the possibility that this is the moment everything collapses.

I step off the elevator first. Olivia is already waiting, phone to her ear, tablet clutched in the other hand. “CNN, Forbes, and the Times are all running versions of the story,” she says the moment she sees us. “ThePulseMatchaccount is teasing Eleanor’s interview for tomorrow morning. They’re calling it, wait for it, ‘The Royal Reckoning.’”

I roll my eyes. “Of course they are.”

She lowers her phone. “We need to get ahead of this. Fast.”

“I’ll take lead.”

Grayson shoots me a look. “You don’t have to…”

I stop him with a glance. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

His jaw flexes, but he nods.

I turn back to Olivia. “Pull the team. Priya, Cassian, Sophie. I want a strategy outline within the hour. And I want our narrative on every channel before Eleanor’s lipstick is dry.”

***

An hour later, I’m standing in the middle of the same boardroom where we’ve launched companies, pitched investors, and rebuilt algorithms from the ground up. Only now, there’s a visible crack in the foundation, and everyone feels it.

“We’re not denying the story,” I say clearly, pacing slowly in front of the long glass wall. “We’re not playing defense. We’re reframing. IfPulseMatchwants this to be about legacy, let’s show them what real legacy looks like.”

Cassian frowns. “You want to lean into it?”

“Absolutely. They think exposing a secret about Grayson’s biological father makes him unworthy of this company.” I stop, turning to face them. “But Perfectly Matched wasn’t built on bloodlines. It was built on intention. On resilience. On choice.”

Olivia nods. “We can do a campaign rollout by end of day. Interviews. Client quotes. Video testimonials.”

“Good,” I say. “And I want to lead it. Not just as CEO, but as someone who chose to build a life with a man the world is trying to strip down to DNA.”

Silence falls. Then Priya exhales, nodding slowly. “Okay. Let’s go to war.”

***

By late afternoon, I step out for air. The city moves like it always does, horns blaring, people shouting into phones, the occasional child wailing about ice cream from a stroller, but today, everything feels sharper. Every sound more jarring. Every shadow longer.

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