The press conference was scheduled for 10 a.m., but by 8:15 the room was already brimming with journalists, photographers, and media crews from every major outlet in the city.
The Connor's media hall had never seen this much frenzy, not even during the peak of Arnold's rise.
Cameras flashed as rows of chairs filled with reporters, clutched notepads and microphones, their whispers turning into buzzing speculation.
At the back of the room, a massive screen displayed the Connor logo. Two flags—one corporate, one national—stood tall behind a podium. The air was full of anticipation and carefully disguised judgment.
Henry stood alert to the side while Rachel reviewed a checklist, murmuring instructions to the PR staff.
Then the side door opened.
Arnold stepped in.
Black smooth suit. White shirt with no tie. Just enough effort to appear composed, but not apologetic.
His face gave nothing away.
He walked deliberately to the podium, pausing only to glance at the flashing storm of cameras. Then he gripped both sides of the podium, leaned slightly forward, and looked straight into the crowd.
The room quieted in an instant.
"Thank you for coming," Arnold began, his voice clear and devastatingly calm. "I won't take much of your time. I know why you're here. I know what you want to ask. So let me get right to it."
He paused, then continued.
"The photo that's been circulating for days now, has sparked speculation, controversy, and in many cases, distress. For me. For the woman pictured. For the company."
The room collectively leaned in.
"I would like to clarify," he continued, each word chosen like a loaded chess move, "that the woman in that photo is Ariel Sawyer."
A ripple moved through the crowd. Pens scratched. Mouths whispered.
"Ariel and I have known each other for years. Our families have been close for even longer. We've shared public and private moments that were never meant to be dissected on front pages. That image was taken in an unfortunate moment, during a private visit, and has now been misused to create scandal."
He paused just long enough to let the words root.
"We are not engaged," he added carefully. "Not yet. But we are... exploring what that future could look like."
The room exploded in a chorus of questions. Flashes popped like gunfire. Several reporters stood at once, shouting over each other.
Arnold raised a hand and the room settled.
"I will not be entertaining speculation about other individuals. Any suggestions of other women involved are false. This is the story. This is the end of it."
He let those words sit, final.
Henry watched and shook his head slightly. He knew the cost of that lie wasn't corporate—it was personal.
Meanwhile, in her apartment across the city, Freya stood frozen in front of her TV. The press conference aired live.
She stared at Arnold on screen. Watched how he lied in a very cool and collected tone.
"...the woman in the photo is Ariel Sawyer."
Freya didn't blink. She barely breathed.
Laura, seated beside her, dropped her spoon into a bowl of cereal.
"Wait... did he just say... Ariel?"
Freya said nothing. Her hands were trembling, and her throat had gone dry.
Back at the media hall, Arnold stepped down from the podium without answering a single follow-up question. Security swept in. Cameras followed.
Ariel, waiting in a side room with her parents, smiled proudly. Her mother clasped her hand, whispering something about "finally playing the long game right."
But Arnold said nothing to her as he passed. Not a word. Not a glance.
Because in his mind, all he could see was Freya's face.
And he wasn't sure what he hated more:
That he had lied to protect her.
Or that the lie might have just destroyed the only thing real in his life.
As he walked into the corridor, he heard his name being shouted. Flashes popped from every angle. A reporter chased after him with a mic.
"Mr. Connor! Are you confirming the engagement? When is the date set?"
Arnold stopped just once.
He turned, gave them a neutral smile, and said, "The company will release all necessary updates in due time."
Then he walked away.
He didn't even hear Ariel calling out after him.
His thoughts were a loop of one face. One voice. One truth he couldn't admit out loud.
Freya.