Page 30 of In Love With Mr. Wrong

I text Olivia:Need you. Now. Crisis level: PR hurricane.

She calls me less than a minute later.

"Tell me what Crane did," she says, already multitasking if the clicks in the background are any sign.

"She’s calling Margot unstable. Accusing us of being reckless, unethical, and impulsive. The Vegas wedding, the algorithm breach, she’s spinning it all into a takedown."

"She’s been waiting for a crack," Olivia mutters. "Now she thinks she’s found one. Let’s remind her what it feels like to pick the wrong side."

Olivia’s loyalty isn’t loud, but it’s lethal. Within the hour, she’s pushing counter-statements to every investor contact we trust and flagging inaccuracies with a precision I forgot to be grateful for.

I handle the external firestorm. She handles the undercurrent. Together, we make damn sure Margot doesn’t fall alone. I’m not just Grayson King, the businessman. Right now, I’m Margot’s firewall. I put on the suit. I dial the press. I call in favors from old allies who owe me more than polite thank-yous. And I make it clear that if Natalia wants a war, she’s about to find out what happens when someone tries to dismantle what we’ve built. Perfectly Matched doesn’t crumble, we fight back.

***

By noon, I’m fielding a dozen requests from journalists who suddenly want to hear our side. Most of them don’t care about the truth, they want a quote to fit the scandal. But I pick the ones who matter, who know what reputational warfare really looks like.

I draft the response myself. No PR spin. No corporate varnish.

From:Grayson King,To:Felicia Browning (NY Weekly),Subject:Re: Vegas Marriage Story, Hi Felicia, Yes, Margot and I got married in Las Vegas. We’d been engaged for months, and like most couples, we chose a moment that felt right for us. Impulsive? Maybe. But dishonest? Never. If the narrative now is that people in love, people who built a company on connection and authenticity, should somehow behave like robots, then we’re happy to challenge that too. Let me know if you want to talk further. I’m available this evening.

– Grayson

I forward the same message to three other outlets:Julian DeWitt at Tech Confidential, Marcy DuPont at The Match Report, and Irene Shay from The Circuit, all of them professionals with reach and at least some integrity.

By two o’clock, Irene replies:From:Irene Shay,Subject:RE: Vegas Marriage Story, Appreciate the clarity, Grayson. We’ll include your full statement. Also, off the record, I’ve seen Crane pull stunts before. Stay sharp.

I smile grimly. That’s all I need. It’s not about hiding. It’s about owning the story before someone else does.

***

By the time I get home, the apartment is quiet. Dim afternoon light spills across the hardwood, and I find Margot curled up on the sofa, a blanket draped over her legs, her hair pulled into a loose knot. She looks up the moment I walk in.

"You handled it?" she asks.

I nod, dropping my phone and keys on the counter. "For now. Olivia’s managing the investor messaging. Press is softening. People are already pivoting to the next scandal."

She exhales, but it’s not quite relief. Just exhaustion.

I move to her, crouch in front of the couch, and take her hand. "You know what I kept thinking about all day?"

She shakes her head slowly.

"The fact that the worst they could come up with was that we got married in Vegas. Like loving you, really loving you, was something to be ashamed of."

She gives a tired smile. "You didn’t tell me it’d be this glamorous."

I grin. "Well, I was thinking... maybe it’s time we do it right. No headlines. No lawyers. No secret Elvis officiant. Just us. Our families. A dress you don’t hate."

Her eyes widen. "Are you saying you want a real wedding?"

I nod. "I want our wedding. Not the rushed, impulsive version people can twist into a scandal. I want vows you remember. Pictures we frame. You walking down an aisle toward me, knowing we’re not hiding from anything."

She’s quiet for a long moment. Then she reaches out and touches my cheek, thumb brushing the corner of my jaw.

"I want that too."

I press my lips to the back of her hand. "Then let’s give them a new story. One they can’t tear down."

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