HERMIONE
HERMIONE
I wake up to warmth.
Not just the sun filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but the solid heat of Dylan's body wrapped around mine.
His arm is draped across my waist, hand resting possessively on my stomach. I turn carefully, trying not to wake him, and take a moment just to look at him.
There's something surreal about it.
Dylan Voss, king of the concrete jungle, lying shirtless beside me, hair tousled, breathing slow and steady. At peace.
And mine.
I slip out of bed quietly, pad into the living room, and grab my phone from where I tossed it into my clutch last night.
Fourteen missed calls.
Thirty-seven messages.
Group chats exploding.
My stomach tightens.
I tap into the first message from Lia.
LIA:
"Hermione. You need to call me. Now. Don't look at anything online yet."
Too late.
The next thing I see is a message from Claire:
CLAIRE:
"It's everywhere. They used the pics from last night. Someone sent them in."
I open the browser, fingers numb.
BREAKING: Dylan Voss's Mystery Woman Identified as Legal Advisor Hermione Vale
A picture loads—me in his lap, laughing, champagne glass in hand.
Another—his hand on my thigh, whispering something in my ear.
Private. Intimate. Undeniable.
I scroll down.
They know everything.
My job offer. My background. My adoption. My parents' death.
Even where I went to high school.
How?
My blood goes cold.
I turn slowly, heart pounding as I hear Dylan's footsteps coming from the hallway.
"Hey," he says, voice still rough with sleep. "Why are you up so early?"
I hold up the phone without saying a word.
His eyes scan the screen.
His jaw tightens.
Then his entire face hardens into stone.
"Who the f**k leaked this?" he growls.
"I don't know." My voice is shaking. "But it wasn't me. I swear, Dylan—"
"I know." He steps forward, eyes locked on mine. "I believe you."
But there's something in his voice—tight, controlled, dangerous.
He pulls out his own phone, starts dialing someone.
And that's when I realized it.
This isn't just a scandal.
This is war.