Evelyn POV
The atmosphere inside Halcyon's studio changed the moment Sophia lowered the tablet.
The energy that had filled the room minutes ago—the excitement, the movement, the growing confidence after the successful shoot—all of it tightened into something sharper and far more dangerous.
Pressure.
Real pressure.
The assistants nearest Sophia exchanged uneasy glances while one of the marketing staff hurried toward the back of the studio already speaking rapidly into a phone, and even Damien, who had spent the last hour acting almost impossible to impress, stepped closer with narrowed eyes fixed on the screen.
I took the tablet from Sophia slowly.
And there it was.
The photograph.
Me stepping out of the car earlier that morning surrounded by bodyguards while reporters crowded behind barricades.
The angle was deliberate.
Carefully chosen.
Because instead of looking protected, I looked hidden.
Like someone being escorted through a scandal.
