Storm clouds gathered, not just over the skyline, but within the fragile walls of the Leclair empire. The days following the attack on Jasmine's studio were tense, each hour wrapped in tight-lipped security briefings, veiled threats, and unspoken fears. The enemy hadn't shown their face, but they had made their message clear:
We're watching.
Jasmine now moved through the world with her chin lifted higher. No longer just the "contract bride" or the artist who caught a billionaire's eye—she had become a problem. A wildcard. A force.
Lucien watched her from across the room as she spoke to their legal team. She was composed, clear, and razor-sharp. She looked like someone born to hold power, and yet—he remembered the woman who once curled up next to him, barefoot and laughing, in a too-small apartment, dreaming of a life without compromise.
And she was still that woman.
But now she wore armor.
He didn't know whether to feel proud—or afraid.
---
That evening, they returned home after a press conference meant to shut down the rumors swirling around their marriage. Jasmine had answered questions with poised brilliance, disarming the crowd with honesty and quiet steel. Lucien, on the other hand, had played the perfect counterpart—charming, strategic, but reserved. Like always.
They didn't speak much in the car, tension stretched between them like a wire waiting to snap.
Inside the penthouse, Jasmine slipped off her heels and walked straight to the bar.
"Want one?" she asked without turning.
"No," Lucien said, loosening his tie. "But don't let me stop you."
She poured herself a glass of something amber and strong. The ice clinked gently as she took a sip, then finally turned to face him.
"Are you going to tell me what you're hiding?" she asked quietly.
Lucien didn't move. "I told you everything I could."
"No, you told me what you thought I could handle." Her voice was soft, but her eyes held fire. "There's more."
He exhaled. "There is."
Jasmine crossed the room slowly. "Then tell me. Because I'm not some fragile porcelain doll you need to protect. I'm in this with you—whether you like it or not."
Lucien looked at her for a long moment, then motioned to the couch.
She sat.
He sat across from her, elbows on his knees, hands clasped.
"My mother didn't die in an accident," he began. "She took her life."
Jasmine blinked, caught off guard.
"She was kind," Lucien continued. "Too kind. She didn't belong in my father's world. He married her for leverage—her family had old money and a name that looked good on paper. But he never loved her. And the longer she stayed, the more he wore her down."
Jasmine leaned forward. "Lucien... I had no idea."
"I was seventeen when she died. I found her. And when I confronted my father, do you know what he said?"
She shook her head.
"He said, 'She was weak. The world has no place for the weak.'"
Jasmine felt her throat tighten.
"That day, I swore I'd never be like him," Lucien said. "But when I took over the company, I started making his choices. Pushing people out. Cutting emotions off. I thought it was the only way to survive."
"And then we married," Jasmine whispered.
"And then we married," Lucien repeated, his voice almost bitter. "At first, you were just the perfect solution to a corporate problem. But you... you changed everything."
She reached for his hand. "You saved yourself, Lucien. You just needed someone to remind you that you're allowed to feel."
His hand tightened around hers.
"But that's why my father hates you," he said. "You've undone everything he built in me."
Jasmine lifted her chin. "Then let him hate me. I'm not afraid."
Lucien stared at her.
Neither of them noticed the silent blinking of the encrypted phone on the counter.
---
The next morning brought news of a hostile takeover attempt.
Henri Leclair had quietly bought out three board members—longtime allies who had apparently turned with stunning speed. A fourth was under investigation for insider trading. And a fifth had resigned suddenly without explanation.
The company's control was hanging by a thread.
Lucien's lawyers worked through the night, assembling a defense. Jasmine, despite Lucien's protests, insisted on being in the war room with them.
"You married me," she reminded him. "That makes this my company too."
By 4 AM, she was the one connecting dots, spotting a loophole in Henri's attempted stock maneuver that even their legal counsel missed. When the sun rose, she had restructured Lucien's shareholder power clause—preserving his authority and freezing any hostile moves.
"You just saved the company," Lucien said, staring at her in awe.
She gave a tired smile. "Well, someone had to."
---
But the storm wasn't over.
Henri retaliated by going public.
In an emergency press conference, he painted Jasmine as a manipulative social climber. He called their marriage a publicity stunt and hinted at "evidence" of infidelity and blackmail.
The tabloids erupted.
Photos were leaked—heavily edited images of Jasmine with men she barely knew. Emails forged. Timelines twisted.
It was war.
Jasmine watched it unfold on a screen, her heart like stone.
"Should we deny it?" one of the PR heads asked.
"No," she said. "We do something better."
"Which is?"
"We show them the truth."
---
Lucien and Jasmine held a joint interview three days later.
It aired live.
The interviewer was ruthless—poking, prying, trying to crack the surface.
But Jasmine never flinched.
"I didn't marry Lucien for power," she said. "I married him because we made a choice. Together. What started as business became something more. And I'd do it again—every time."
Lucien reached for her hand.
"I've never met anyone like Jasmine," he said. "She challenges me. She inspires me. She reminds me who I am beneath the legacy and the pressure. And if loving her costs me everything else—then I'll pay it gladly."
The internet exploded.
Public sympathy swung back in their favor.
The stock climbed again.
And Henri's allies began to scatter.
---
But victory came at a cost.
That night, Jasmine stood on the balcony again.
Lucien joined her quietly.
"Are we ever going to have peace?" she asked.
"One day," he said. "When we earn it."
She nodded. "I want that day to come."
He slipped his arms around her waist. "It will."
"Promise?"
Lucien pressed a kiss to her temple. "I promise. No more lies. No more shields."
She leaned back against him.
"I'm not afraid of the fight," she whispered. "As long as I'm fighting beside you."
He smiled.
And for the first time in weeks, the weight between them lifted.
Not gone.
But shared.
Together.
---