Ava’s POV

The night dragged on as Mason worked tirelessly. His phone buzzed endlessly with calls, his sharp voice commanding yet calm, as he orchestrated a plan to salvage what was left of my reputation. Watching him, I was struck by his ability to keep a level head despite the chaos. It was something I desperately wished I could emulate.

I sat on the couch, hugging my knees to my chest as I watched him pace the room, cufflinks clutched in one hand while his phone was glued to the other. His movements were quick, efficient, like a man used to operating in high-stakes situations. And maybe he was—Mason had always been the fixer, the protector. He had a way of making everything seem manageable, even when it wasn’t.

“Mason,” I called softly, breaking his concentration. He paused mid-stride and turned to face me, his brow furrowed.

“What is it, Ava?” he asked, his voice gentler now.

I hesitated, not sure how to put my thoughts into words. “Do you really think we can fix this? I mean, this video… it’s everywhere. People are already making up their minds about me.”

He sighed, slipping his phone into his pocket and sitting beside me. “Ava, listen to me. Scandals like this thrive on momentum, but they also burn out quickly if handled the right way. We’re going to control the narrative. Rose is already working on the statement, and I’ve contacted someone who specializes in digital forensics to trace where the video originated. We’ll find out who’s behind this.”

“And if we don’t?”

His jaw tightened, his calm exterior slipping for just a moment. “We will,” he said firmly. “I won’t stop until we do.”

I nodded, letting his confidence steady me.

“I’ve arranged for you to stay at a private residence for a few days,” Mason continued. “It’s safer than here, and you’ll have more privacy. The press won’t find you there. They already know that you’re here.”

I wanted to protest, to insist that I could handle this on my own, but the truth was, I couldn’t. I was in over my head, and Mason was the only lifeline I had.

“Okay,” I agreed quietly.

He gave a small nod, his expression softening. “Good. Pack a bag. We’ll leave in an hour.”

As I moved to gather my things, my mind raced. Who would do this to me? The idea that someone had deliberately set me up was both infuriating and terrifying. And the cufflinks—whoever they belonged to—felt like a crucial piece of the puzzle.

Mason’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “I’ve sent a picture of the cufflinks to a contact of mine. If they’re custom-made, they’ll have a record somewhere. We’ll know who they belong to soon.”

“Thank you,” I said again, my voice trembling.

He met my gaze, his expression unreadable. “Don’t thank me yet. We’re just getting started.”

---

The ride to the private residence was tense but quiet. The city lights blurred past us, their glow reflecting off the rain-slick streets. I stared out the window, lost in thought, while Mason made more calls from the driver’s seat.

Thinking of how we disguised and snuck out of the hotel almost brought me to tears. Why do I need to hide? I didn’t do anything wrong—at least, not everything I’m being accused of.

The private space was a stark contrast to my chaotic life—a sleek, modern space with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a stunning view of the city. It was both intimidating and comforting, much like Mason himself.

“Make yourself at home,” he said as we stepped inside. “I’ll set up in the office.”

I nodded, too exhausted to do much more than sink into the plush couch. The silence of the apartment was oppressive, the weight of the situation pressing down on me like a physical force.

Mason reappeared a few minutes later, holding two mugs of tea. He handed one to me before sitting down beside me.

“Drink,” he instructed gently.

I took a sip, the warmth soothing my frayed nerves.

“What’s the plan?” I asked after a moment.

He leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “First, we need to buy ourselves some time. The statement Rose is working on will address the video without confirming or denying anything. It’s vague, but it’ll shift the focus long enough for us to dig deeper.”

“And the cufflinks?”

“I’ll have an answer on those by tomorrow. If they belong to who I think they do, this could get messy.”

“What do you mean?”

Mason hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I have a suspicion, but I don’t want to say anything until I’m sure. Just know that whoever did this didn’t do it on a whim. This was calculated.”

His words sent a chill down my spine.

“Do you think Orion has anything to do with this?” I asked hesitantly.

Mason’s expression darkened. “I don’t want to make the situation worse, but he’s just too shady. Why did he leave you all alone? Where is he now? What’s more suspicious than that?”

I cleared my throat as I fought the dumb urge to defend Orion. How low can I get? I just stared at him, a sense of helplessness washing over me.

“If he really have a hand in this, I’ll make him regret it even if it’s the last thing I ever do,” he added, his voice icy.

The intensity in his voice startled me, but I didn’t press further.

---

The next morning, I woke to the sound of Mason’s voice. He was on the phone in the living room, his tone clipped and urgent. I couldn’t make out the words, but the tension in his voice was unmistakable.

When he noticed me standing in the doorway, he ended the call and turned to face me.

“Good morning,” he said, his expression softening slightly.

“Morning,” I replied. “Any news?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “The cufflinks belong to someone named Damien Cross. He’s the CEO of a major tech company—and a known associate of Orion’s.”

My heart sank. “So it was him?”

“Not necessarily,” Mason said quickly. “But it’s a connection. I’ve already reached out to someone who can get us more information on Damien.”

“What about the video?”

“It’s being taken down from most platforms, but it’s still spreading. We need to act fast.”

***

By midday, Mason’s contact had come through with more details. Damien Cross was indeed tied to Orion, but the nature of their relationship was murky at best.

“It doesn’t make sense,” I said, pacing the living room. “Why would Damien set me up? I don’t even know him.”

“Maybe he was just helping an old friend,” Mason said quietly.

I froze mid-step, his words hitting me like a punch to the gut. “What are you talking about?”

Mason met my gaze, his expression grim. “Think about it. If Damien really wanted to hurt you, he’d have a reason—or at least a connection. But you said it yourself: you’ve never met this man. What if he’s not working alone? What if… this was Orion’s move?”

The room seemed to tilt, my stomach knotting as the implication sank in.

“Orion?” I repeated, disappointment lacing my voice. “Could he really—?” I stopped, the answer dawning on me before I even finished the question. If Orion wanted to cover his tracks, using someone we don’t have in common to do his dirty work would keep him safely out of the picture.

Mason didn’t wait for me to finish. “If Damien’s the puppet, Orion’s the one pulling the strings. And if that’s true, then we’re not just dealing with a setup—we’re dealing with a trap.”

“What do we do now?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his theory pressing on me.

“We keep digging,” Mason said firmly, his jaw tightening. “And we stay ahead of him. If this is Orion, we don’t just let him keep spinning his web. We trap him instead. We expose him. End his game once and for all.”

I nodded slowly, a flicker of determination sparking in my chest.

But as Mason laid out his plan, one question kept ringing in my mind like a deafening echo: How could Orion do this to me?