Sienna had three things on her mind when she woke up that morning.
1. Coffee.
2. Her sister's unexpected call the night before.
3. And the nagging thought that something, somewhere, was about to go wrong.
She wasn't wrong.
By the time she made it down to the kitchen, dressed in a navy silk robe and still barefoot, Alexander was already standing in front of the massive flatscreen TV, arms crossed, lips pressed in a hard line.
"Good morning to you too," she said cautiously.
He didn't answer.
She followed his gaze to the screen.
It was a news panel—four hosts in suits and dresses, sitting around a curved glass table. And right behind them on the screen was her face. Along with a headline in bold:
"New Mrs. Knight Insults Charity Staff?"
Her heart dropped. "What... is this?"
Alexander didn't look away from the screen. "You tell me."
The volume was low, but she could hear the hosts analyzing the footage like it was a crime scene.
A blurry video showed her stepping out of the charity event from two days ago. She was mid-conversation with someone—one of the assistants, she vaguely remembered—and her expression looked... stern.
But the angle. The words are taken out of context. The way the assistant had laughed awkwardly just before the camera cut out.
It looked bad.
Bad.
"I didn't insult anyone," she said quickly. "I was asking him to correct something on the speech notes. That was it."
Alexander finally turned to look at her. "Well, the internet thinks you called him incompetent."
"I didn't!" she snapped, frustration rising. "And if someone had the full video, they'd see that!"
He walked to the bar. It wasn't even 9 a.m., but he poured a splash of whiskey into his coffee.
"Welcome to public life," he muttered.
---
The PR team arrived fifteen minutes later.
Three people. All in muted tones. All carrying tablets and folders.
They sat around the marble dining table like it was a war room.
"We need to respond," the lead, a woman named Kara, said calmly. "But it has to be subtle. If we come off as too defensive, it confirms guilt. If we ignore it, it festers."
Sienna stood at the far end, arms crossed. "Or... we could show the actual footage. The real one. The full conversation."
"That's not how this works," Kara replied. "Narratives move faster than facts."
"She's right," Alexander added. "Perception is truth, remember?"
Sienna's eyes narrowed. "That's not a life. That's a prison."
Kara gave a diplomatic smile. "We'll release a short video of you speaking warmly with staff at a different event. Reframe the public image without directly addressing the incident. Redirect, not respond."
Sienna looked at Alexander. "Are you okay with them rewriting reality like that?"
He met her eyes. "Reality doesn't matter in this world. Only reputation does."
And just like that, she realized she wasn't married to a man.
She was married to a machine.
---
Later that day, after the damage control plan was set into motion, Sienna stood alone on the balcony.
She'd never liked heights. The city from above felt too detached. Too quiet.
But right now, she needed silence.
She gripped the railing, letting the breeze push her hair back. The hum of cars below. The faint smell of coffee from a nearby rooftop café. For a second, she imagined she was just a regular girl again. Not a walking headline.
A soft knock on the glass door behind her broke the silence.
She turned. It was Alexander.
He stepped out, not in his usual sharp suit but in a simple dark sweater and jeans.
Human clothes, she thought absently.
"Don't worry," he said. "They'll forget it in a week."
"That's not what I'm worried about."
He waited.
She turned away. "I used to have opinions. Now I have... curated responses. I used to speak. Now I recite."
Alexander leaned against the railing beside her. "That's part of the cost."
"And what exactly did you pay for all this?"
He glanced at her. "Everything."
His answer was quiet. Too quiet.
Sienna looked at him. "What do you mean?"
Alexander was silent for a long time. Then he said, "When I was twenty-five, my father died. Left me the company, the pressure, the board, everything. I hadn't even finished figuring out who I was. Suddenly, I was someone else's idea of a man."
She watched him, surprised at the vulnerability.
"I lost friends. Relationships. Myself."
Sienna didn't know what to say.
"You're not the only one adjusting," he added.
They stood in silence again.
Then she asked, "Do you miss the person you were before all this?"
He didn't hesitate. "Every damn day."
---
That night, they had a public dinner.
Not because they wanted to.
But because the PR team thought it would "boost public warmth."
The restaurant was one of the most exclusive in the city. Every table is spaced perfectly. Every wine glass set like it had been measured by a laser.
They were shown to a window table. Cameras flashed outside the tinted glass.
Sienna forced a smile.
"So what do I order?" she asked as she scanned the menu. "Do the scallops say I'm likable or the steak say I'm grounded?"
Alexander smirked. "The risotto says you're low-maintenance. The lobster says you want to be envied."
She shook her head. "This is insane."
"You're telling me."
Their conversation was light. Teasing, even.
For a moment, it felt almost... normal.
Until the waiter came and referred to her as "Mrs. Knight" again.
The name still didn't feel real.
As they finished their meal, Alexander leaned back.
"I know this isn't what you wanted."
She looked at him. "What do you think I wanted?"
He shrugged. "A quiet life. A bookstore, maybe. A job where people don't take pictures of your breakfast."
She smiled. "You're not far off."
"And yet... here we are."
She studied him. "Do you ever wish we could undo it?"
He was quiet for a beat.
Then he said, "No."
"Really?"
"I don't regret the deal. But I do regret that it's all it ever was."
She didn't know how to respond to that.
Because part of her... agreed.
---
When they got home, the apartment was quiet.
Alexander went to his office. Sienna wandered to the media room.
She sat on the couch, still in her dinner dress, and scrolled through the day's news.
The headlines had softened.
The video from earlier had been buried under new celebrity gossip.
Just like Kara predicted.
But still... it lingered.
Then, just before midnight, her phone buzzed.
A new message. Unknown number.
"You're doing better than I expected. But don't forget why you started."
No name.
No sender.
Just those words.
She stared at the screen, her pulse rising.
Who sent that?
Why now?
And what did they know?