Chapter 2

When I walked in, everyone in the room stood up. Nobody said a word. The only thing still lit up was the tablet in the corner, showing the real-time trend topic page, with trend topics climbing up the list one after another.

Tristan Stone, the PR director, was the first to react. He put on a professional smile. "Winnie, have a seat. We were about to reach out to you."

"What for?" I pulled out a chair and sat down, flipping the document over and pressing my finger on the top page. "To tell me when my engagement teaser got turned into his parenthood press conference?"

Tristan's smile froze for a moment. Harrison wasn't here. I sneered to myself, "So I didn't have to worry about the kid, the cameras, or his whole act of wanting me to look respectable."

I flipped through the document. There was a schedule, the host's talking points, a list of possible media questions, the kid's entrance time, Harrison's speech order, backup plans, and how to steer public opinion. There was a whole page titled [Response Plan to Winnie.]

I paused. Everyone's expression shifted. I pulled that page out and laid it flat on the table.

There were three points. First, kept quiet and made no public comment, letting everyone assume it was a clean break. Second, if I caused a scene, security would drag me out.

Third, if I showed any emotion at all, the official story would be personal relationship problems, and the kid had nothing to do with it.

I finished reading and let out a cold laugh.

Tristan swallowed hard. "Winnie, don't get worked up. This is a contingency plan. It doesn't mean, "

"Contingency plan?" I looked up at him. "So you guys mapped out when I'd cry, when I'd lose it, and when I'd get hauled out?"

He stayed silent. I slapped the page down on the table. The crack made everyone's shoulders tense up. "Where's the kid?" I asked.

The assistant blurted out, "She's resting inside."

Tristan shot him a glare. I followed his gaze to the lounge, the door shut tight, but a pink suitcase was sticking out from underneath. The kid had brought her luggage.

So this wasn't some last-minute rescue. They'd mapped out everything from the start, including when she'd appear, how long she'd stay, and where she'd go afterward.

My engagement dress, my joint interview, my spot on the trend topic, my place in my own life, all of it had been shoved aside to clear the stage for this whole show.

I leaned back, drumming my fingers twice on the table. "Who put this together?"

Tristan answered stiffly, "The whole team did."

"When?"

"Last night."

I stared at him, saying nothing. The conference room was so quiet, only the hum of the air conditioner filled the silence. After a few seconds, the girl in the corner who handled the printing finally broke the silence. "It wasn't yesterday."

Everyone turned to look at her. Her face was ghostly pale, clutching a stapler in her hand. "The first draft was done on the twenty-sixth of last month."

My mind buzzed. That was the day Harrison had proposed to me by the beach, then took me to meet the director and brand execs. At dinner, he served me food, smiling and saying we'd set the engagement date after the press conference.

Turned out, that same day, his team was already plotting the parenthood press conference behind my back.

I lowered my eyes, running through those dates in my mind. Suddenly, there was an emptiness in my chest. Not pain, it was like someone had silently carved out the softest part of me.

I flipped the file back open and went straight to the budget page. Everything was broken down in detail. My eyes slid down to a line: [Venue changes and theme swap].

There was a string of numbers after it. In the Approved By box, the signature was my team's executive director.

I looked up at Sophie. She'd come in, standing at the door, her face suddenly changing.

"Who signed off on this?" I asked.

Sophie walked over, glanced at the page, her voice rough. "This money came out of your project account." The room went completely silent. Tristan looked stunned.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Sophie lowered her voice. "The original budget for the joint press conference came from the brand collaborations and promo deals you secured last year.

"Then, when Harrison's team said they wanted to add some last-minute segments, the team shifted the funds from our side first."

"How much did they transfer?"

"250 thousand dollars."

I let out a laugh. So this whole parenthood press conference that publicly sidelined me? Turned out, it was paid for with my own project's budget.

Tristan quickly jumped in, "We can sort this out later."

"Sort what out?" I stared him down. "Balance the books, or go public saying I happily sponsored Harrison's big fatherhood reveal?"

Nobody answered. Suddenly, the lounge door swung open. Harrison came out holding the kid, her face smeared with milk, eyes red like she'd been crying.

When he saw me, he paused. Everyone in the room instantly stepped back.

Harrison handed the kid to the nanny and walked over to me. "Winnie," he said.

"You really know how to pick your day, don't you?" I said.

He stopped right in front of me, his brow furrowed. "I know this is hard for you to accept, but today's not the day to talk about us."

"Then when is?"

"After this is over."

"Over?" I tapped the file on the table. "You started planning this back on the twenty-sixth, and today you made me take off my ring in front of everyone. Now you want me to wait until it's all over?"

Harrison's gaze dropped to the file, and his face finally changed. "You read it?"

"Was I not supposed to?"

He paused, his voice dropping lower. "Something happened with the kid out of nowhere. I had to protect her first."

"So I'm supposed to step aside?"

"Winnie—"

"So today, the spot I was supposed to stand in, the trend topic that should've been mine, the moment I was supposed to be on camera with my ring, all of it had to go to her?"

I looked at him and let out a bitter little laugh. "Harrison, I get that you want to protect the kid. But did you really have to throw me under the bus to do it?"

He swallowed hard. "I never meant to hurt you."

"Hurting me is what you do best."

Those words hung in the air, and he fell silent. Someone knocked on the door, saying the media was waiting for the next round of responses. Harrison didn't turn around, stared at me. "I'll make it up to you."

"How are you planning to make it up to me? Are you going to pay me back the 250 thousand dollars you spent today, or pretend this whole humiliation never happened?"

His brow furrowed tighter. "Do you have to make it sound so ugly?"

"Fine, I'll say it nicely." I stood up, folded the budget sheet, and shoved it into my bag.

"I handled everything for this press conference, the venue, the budget, the face-saving, the public backlash. Harrison, you really know how to make every penny count."

His face turned grim. "Winnie, don't go crazy right now."

Everyone around us seemed to stop breathing. I paused for a couple of seconds, then gave a small laugh. "Fine. I won't go crazy."

I grabbed my bag and turned to leave. Sophie hurried after me. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to take back what's mine."

"Now?"

I didn't slow down. "Yeah. I'm not leaving a single thing behind."