The television screen glowed brightly in the otherwise quiet living room.
"...and the internet is buzzing tonight," the reporter said smoothly, her practiced smile never faltering. "Rookie actor Anna—who is set to make her big-screen debut this week—has found herself at the center of a growing controversy."
Images flashed on the screen. Anna stepping out of a car. Anna laughing softly beside Daniel. Daniel’s arm instinctively angled protectively around her.
Kathrine’s fingers tightened around the remote.
"The speculation began early this morning," the reporter continued, voice gaining montum, "after photos surfaced of Anna and renowned bussiness man and producer Daniel leaving the sa residence. Sources claim the two share more than a professional relationship."
The screen shifted to a panel discussion.
"Many netizens are now questioning," one comntator chid in, "whether Anna’s sudden rise in the industry has less to do with talent and more to do with influence."
Kathrine’s jaw clenched.
"So are even suggesting," another voice added eagerly, "that Daniel may be the reason she landed such prominent roles so early in her career."
The words lurking, manipulating, using her charm scrolled across the bottom of the screen in bold captions pulled from social dia.
Kathrine let out a sharp, humorless laugh.
"So this is how it starts," she muttered.
The reporter wrapped it up neatly. "While neither party has confird the relationship, public opinion remains divided. Is this a genuine romance—or favoritism at play?"
Kathrine hurled the remote across the couch. It bounced once before landing on the rug.
"This is disgusting," she snapped.
Ethan, who had been standing near the window scrolling through his phone, looked up imdiately. "Kathrine—"
"No," she cut in sharply, rising to her feet. "Listen to them. Listen." She gestured furiously at the screen. "They’re tearing her apart like vultures, and for what? Because she exists near him?"
Her lips pressed together, anger simring beneath the surface.
"They always do this," she continued, pacing now. "They can’t stand it when a woman rises without begging permission. So they invent a story that makes her look small. Cheap. Opportunistic."
Ethan frowned. "You sound awfully defensive."
Kathrine shot him a look. "I’m furious. There’s a difference."
She stopped abruptly and folded her arms, eyes still locked on the muted television where Anna’s image lingered.
"They’re saying she lured him," Kathrine scoffed. "They are now making up stories"
Ethan could see how deeply unsettled Kathrine was.
They both knew the truth—long before Anna ever stepped into the world of films. They knew about her marriage to Daniel, about the cracks that had ford long before the caras ever noticed her. They knew she had wanted a divorce once, not out of ambition, but exhaustion. Out of pain.
And one thing Ethan knew for certain—using Daniel to advance her career was sothing Anna would never do.
"She worked for it," Ethan said calmly, breaking the silence. "Every audition. Every rejection. That role wasn’t handed to her because of Daniel."
Kathrine’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t interrupt.
"It was her acting," Ethan continued. "Raw. Unfiltered. That’s what caught the director’s attention. Daniel didn’t pull strings. He didn’t have to."
Kathrine closed her eyes for a brief second, exhaling a slow, heavy breath—as if letting go of anger she had nowhere to place.
"I know," she admitted quietly. "That’s why this infuriates ."
Ethan stepped closer. "Then maybe we should let them handle it. Anna and Daniel both know what’s best for them now. Interfering will only complicate things."
Kathrine opened her eyes and looked at him.
For a mont, she looked tired rather than angry.
"You’re right," she said finally. "As much as I hate what they’re doing to her... this is their battle now."
The speculation hurt—but it wasn’t hers to fight.
Her shoulders relaxed slightly as reality settled in. Anna and Daniel’s relationship was out in the open now. The world would twist it however it pleased, but they would have to decide how much of themselves they were willing to defend.
Still, the timing gnawed at her.
Just a day ago, they had been dealing with the fallout of the Bennett family’s downfall—corporate chaos, legal consequences, reputations collapsing overnight.
And now this.
"They don’t waste ti, do they?" Kathrine muttered. "One scandal ends, another begins."
Ethan gave a faint smile. "Seems like calm isn’t sothing that follows any of us anymore."
Kathrine almost smiled back—almost.
But then sothing colder slid into her thoughts.
Her gaze drifted back to the television, now muted, looping the sa images again and again.
Those photos.
Clear. Close. Too personal.
Her brows slowly furrowed.
"But there’s sothing that doesn’t sit right," she said quietly.
Ethan followed her line of sight. "What?"
"How did they get those pictures?" Kathrine asked. "Those weren’t taken by random fans. The angle was deliberate. The timing was perfect."
Ethan’s expression sharpened. "You think soone tipped the dia?"
"I don’t think," she replied slowly. "I know."
She crossed her arms, unease creeping in where anger had been monts before.
"Soone handed them those photos," Kathrine said firmly. "And whoever it was knew exactly what damage it would cause."
The room fell silent.
"What worries ," she added, voice low, "is not what the dia is saying—but who decided it was ti to say it."
Ethan didn’t respond imdiately.
Because they both knew— this wasn’t chaos.
It was calculated.
***
Sowhere on the other side of the city, Norma watched the sa news unfold with composed, almost serene eyes.
The television droned on—panels debating, headlines flashing, Anna’s na dragged through speculation and accusation. Each cruel word felt deliberate. Precise.
Norma’s lips curved ever so slightly.
So easy, she thought. People always believed what they were guided to believe.
"Madam, soone is here to see you," the maid said softly, appearing at the doorway.
Norma didn’t look away from the screen at first. Only when the reporter began replaying the photos for the third ti did she reach for the remote and switch the television off.
"Send them in," she said, nodding once.
The maid left.
Silence settled.
Norma had barely turned around when the sound of footsteps echoed through the room—slow, steady, unhurried. Not the hesitant steps of soone unsure. Not the rushed pace of soone desperate.
She smiled to herself.
And then Anna stood there.
"Well," Norma said lightly, turning fully now, amusent glinting in her eyes. "Anna. I never thought I’d see you here." She tilted her head, studying her like an old curiosity. "But since you are... I can assu why."
A soft smirk tugged at her lips, as if she were holding back laughter.
Anna remained still. Calm. Almost unnervingly so.
She had expected this.
The mont the photos surfaced. The mont the articles appeared with too much detail, too much confidence. Anna had known who stood behind it all.
"You must think I ca here to bla you," Anna said evenly.
Norma’s brows lifted, genuine surprise flickering across her face.
"Oh?" She took a step forward. "Isn’t that why people visit at tis like this?"
She closed the distance between them, heels clicking against the floor, her gaze sharp and probing.
"After all," Norma continued smoothly, "if you’re here, you must have sothing to say. Accusations. Anger. Regret." Her eyes darkened. "Go on."
She stopped directly in front of Anna.
"Then do it," Norma said softly. "Say it."
For a long mont, Anna said nothing.
She t Norma’s stare without flinching, without the fury Norma had expected. Instead, there was sothing far more unsettling—clarity.
"I didn’t co to bla you. But to see if you are the sa Aunt Daniel should keep trusting" Anna said at last.
Norma’s smile faltered, just slightly.
"Trust?" Norma scoffed softly, though her fingers curled at her side. "If he had trusted , he wouldn’t have faltered."
Her voice was calm, asured—but there was a fracture beneath it, sothing brittle she refused to acknowledge.
Anna stepped closer.
"And this is what you do when trust cracks?" she asked coldly. "You betray him in the na of family." Her eyes darkened. "Don’t you think that’s pathetic?"
Norma’s gaze sharpened, but Anna didn’t stop.
"If your problem is with , then why drag Daniel into it?" she demanded. "Why turn his life into collateral damage?" Her voice lowered. "Don’t you worry that your nephew will lose the last shred of respect he has for you?"
For a second, sothing unreadable flickered across Norma’s face.
Then she laughed.
Low. Dismissive.
"He won’t," Norma said confidently.
Anna searched her expression. "You sound very sure."
"I am," Norma replied. "Because respect is a luxury afforded only to people who have choices. Daniel doesn’t."
Anna stiffened. "You think he belongs to you?"
"I know he does," Norma corrected smoothly. "I raised him. Protected him. Cleaned up the sses no one else dared to." She took a step closer, invading Anna’s space now. "You think one marriage gives you power over decades of loyalty?"
Anna’s jaw tightened. "Loyalty built on manipulation isn’t loyalty. It’s control."
Norma’s smile thinned. "Call it whatever helps you sleep."
Anna had always sensed that Norma’s affection for Daniel was... intentional.
To the world, Norma was family. A devoted aunt. A woman who had sacrificed everything for her nephew.
But Anna had seen past that illusion.
For Norma, Daniel was never just family—he was the only weapon she had left. A living reminder. A ans to deliver the justice she believed her brother had been denied.
And the mont Daniel chose to stand against her, Anna knew sothing else just as clearly—
Norma would not hesitate to turn that weapon on him.
"That day," Anna said quietly, locking eyes with her, "you warned , didn’t you?"
Norma didn’t answer.
"I didn’t understand it then," Anna continued as small smile curved Anna’s lips—not warm, not polite. Knowing.
"But now I do." Her eyes glinted with aning, sharp and unyielding.
"You were never warning about the world," Anna said. "You were warning about you."
Norma’s expression hardened, but Anna pressed on.
"And I’m sorry to disappoint you," she added calmly, voice steady. "Because I won’t give you the satisfaction of taking us down."
She took a step closer, her presence firm, unwavering.
"You can twist stories. Feed the dia. Poison perceptions," Anna said. "But you don’t get to decide how our story ends."
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken history. Anna stood there for a few second before she turned on her heels and walk away making it very clear that Norma wouldn’t win.
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