Or fist.
I don’t think anyone could read comments like that about themselves and not feel some kind of emotion toward it. But despite my feelings, I know who I am and what I stand for. Nothing anyone says will change my mind, but it doesn’t mean their words still can’t affect me.
Unlike Declan, I didn’t grow up in this kind of world. I’m not accustomed to having my image plastered all over every celebrity gossip site, picking at everything that makes me who I am. It makes me want to hide away from everyone and everything, but it also makes me want to fight.
“I’m going to fix this.” I hold my chin up.
“How?”
I won’t allow logistics to kill my motivation. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out.”
“Oh, baby. You can’t change people’s narratives. They are going to think what they want based on the facts they’re presented with, and nothing you do will change that.”
Mom’s words cause a lightbulb to shine above my head—as if it was blessed by God himself.
What if I create a story so enticing, they can’t help but want to change their view? I can control how people perceive us. It might take a bit of work on my end, but it has to be better than the alternative. Because if stories like this continue to pile up, Brady Kane’s lawyer will most likely start questioning the authenticity of everything.
No. There is no way I will allow that to happen. I didn’t go through all the trouble of marrying Declan so his father could ruin everything anyway. Seth Kane might have won this round, but he has a whole other thing coming if he thinks I’ll let a few news headlines hold me back. While his sons have to remain diplomatic around him for the sake of investors and board members, I have no issues getting dirty.
He put a target on his back, and I can’t wait to pull the trigger.
22
DECLAN
Disconnecting for the remainder of my honeymoon was a mistake. I have never spent an hour without checking my phone, let alone days.
This is what happens when you take a vacation.
During my time off the grid, someone leaked a story to the gossip magazines saying my marriage was staged. I don’t doubt my father was behind this kind of campaign, although it will be difficult to prove it.
I have to give him credit. He was thorough, making sure to include a set of fake documents detailing shit Iris and I never even discussed in our contract. It portrays me as the exact monster the world expects of me. Headlines about a speculated inheritance. Interviews from soon-to-be ex-employees claiming my relationship with Iris came out of nowhere, all because of a clause from my grandfather about giving birth to an heir. There are even sonogram photos of a child who sure as shit isn’t mine.
I wouldn’t bat an eye at the headlines, but the way they talk about Iris… Now that is simply unacceptable.
You never cared about their opinions in the past…
That was before I had someone worth protecting from the scum of the earth. Iris isn’t naive. She knows how the media portrays me and what might have happened if she married me. But this… Even I’m horrified at some of the comments.
I tuck my phone in my pocket before I smash it into a million pieces. “Call my lawyer when we land.”
Iris looks up from her tablet. “What for?”
“I’m in the mood to make people miserable.”
“Can it still be considered a mood if it’s a constant state of being?”
I glare.
She holds her hands up in submission. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m about to slap half of Chicago with a libel lawsuit.”
Her lips form a small O as she nods her head. “Ahh. So I take it that you saw the articles?”
I blink. “You know about them?”
She moves her head up and down again as her eyes shift away from mine.
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
Her heavy sigh battles to be heard over the engines starting up. “My mom called me while I was packing this morning and told me about them. I was hoping we would make it through the flight before you read them, but I see it was a lost cause.”
“Why didn’t you tell me the moment you saw them?” And please tell me you didn’t read the comments.
“Because I didn't find it worth ruining our last day together with something like this.”
“Who the fuck cares about that?”
She offers me a tight smile. “If you’re worried about what the lawyer might think, I already have a plan. I refuse to let your father beat us.”
Us. Not you. The idea of us working as a team against my father pleases me, but not enough to erase the anger I feel about her putting my inheritance first. “Fuck the plan and fuck my father. That’s not what’s important here.”
She bats her lashes. “My, my, Declan. Are you offended for me?”
“They called you a money-hungry whore.” My molars smash together.
“At least they chose a good photo of me for that one. The reporters over at the Chicago Chronicle weren’t as kind when it came to my secret pregnancy announcement.”
“What?” I can barely see past the black dots filling my vision as I pull out my phone again.
Iris places her hand over mine. “Don’t worry about it.”
I should be reassuring her. No one deserves to be talked about that way. While some comments are to be expected, like her only marrying me for a paycheck or my last name, the rest are despicable. They pick apart her looks. Her intelligence. Her heart. Each one makes me want to find the internet trolls who said something negative about her and strangle them with their computer cords. If I thought I hated the media before, nothing compares to the burning desire to erase the first amendment from American history.
She gives my hand a squeeze, pulling me back from my murderous thoughts. “They’re only words.”
Inside, I’m seething. On the outside, I’m just as cold and calculated as the articles describe me to be. “I expected a different reaction from you.”
What did you really think she would do? Yell? Scream? Cry?
Anything would be better than the current alternative of her trying to reassure me. I don’t deserve it.
“I knew all of this would happen eventually.” She shrugs as if none of this bothers her, but it’s nothing but a lie. Her chin trembles and I find myself fisting my hands on my lap to prevent me from reaching out to comfort her.
Me comforting her? I wouldn’t even know where to start with something so ridiculous. “I’ll handle this.”
She raises a brow. “What are you going to do? Defend my honor?”
“At the very least.”
Her laugh eases some of the tension in my muscles. “Please don’t do something stupid because you’re angry.”
“I won’t.”
She lifts a brow. “Or anything that could be deemed a felony.”
“Is it still considered a crime if I don’t get caught?”
Her eyes brighten, chipping away at the icy block of my heart. “Paying your way out of prison isn’t something to show off about.”
“What good is having all this money if I have to follow the law?”