Page 32 of In Love With Mr. Wrong

“What? He wore a great suit.”

Michelle laughs. “And what has the response been like since the announcement? Have investors, clients, even friends, treated you differently?”

We exchange a glance, and I answer carefully. “Some people pulled back. Others leaned in. But the people who matter? They saw through the noise. They know who we are.”

Michelle nods. “So when’s the big day?”

“Six weeks from now,” I say. “A garden ceremony. Just us, our people, and a lot of flowers I’m going to pretend I picked out.”

He nudges me gently. “You picked out the champagne. Priorities.”

“And you picked a playlist titledMargot’s Hot Bride Era,so I think we’re even.”

The audience laughs. Michelle smiles warmly. I glance at the crowd beyond the cameras and notice the subtle but unmistakable shift, people leaning forward, nodding, smiling. A few hands raise, cueing the producer to allow audience questions.

"What about the algorithm?" a woman near the front asks. "Is it really fixed? Can people still trust it?"

Grayson and I exchange a quick look, and I take the lead.

"Yes," I say clearly. "The algorithm has been fully restored. Every compromised line of code was audited, rebuilt, and retested by our team. Olivia, our head of operations, oversaw the process. It’s stronger now than it’s ever been. And we’ve added safeguards to make sure what happened... can’t happen again."

Grayson nods beside me. "Perfectly Matched isn’t just functioning. It’s thriving. And the core of it, what makes it work, is still what we believe in: authentic connection. Real compatibility. Real love."

There’s a murmur of agreement from the audience. Phones go up, cameras flash. This time, it doesn’t feel invasive. It feels... supportive.

The shift is subtle, but undeniable. I can feel the tide turning, not through cheers or applause, but through the silence that feels more like understanding than judgment. It isn’t because we delivered the perfect answer or miraculously erased the headlines.

It’s because, for the first time in a long while, people aren’t just watching a story, they’re witnessing a couple. They’re seeing the truth we’ve lived, not the one others tried to write for us. They see us. Not a scandal. Not a soundbite. Just us. And for once, they’re genuinely rooting for that.

***

After the cameras cut and the lights dim, we don’t make a quick exit. We linger.

People from the studio audience approach us, one by one at first, then in pairs and small groups. These aren’t just casual fans or curious strangers. They’re names we’ve seen in headlines, bios we’ve reviewed on intake forms. Power players. Investors. Future high-profile clients.

“Is there a waitlist to get matched now?” asks Daniel Lin, a venture capitalist known for flipping billion-dollar exits like poker chips. His blazer probably costs more than my entire PR budget.

“Depends,” Grayson says with a grin. “Are you emotionally available and capable of keeping a houseplant alive?”

Daniel laughs. “Barely. But I’ve got a good Spotify algorithm. That count?”

“We’ll take it under advisement,” I chime in, grinning. “But Olivia’s tougher than me. She made one guy take a love languages quiz before we even let him past the intake form.”

Then comes Alina Mora, luxury fashion executive and the face of at least three viral fragrance campaigns. She’s wearing a red jumpsuit that’s tailored within an inch of its life.

“So, real talk,” she says, “is it true you match based on conflict resolution styles?”

“Absolutely,” I say. “Because attraction is great, but if you throw a tantrum every time someone leaves a wet towel on the floor, that chemistry evaporates real quick.”

Grayson chuckles beside me. “Also, Margot once built an entire compatibility model based on whether someone could tolerate airport delays without snapping.”

“Still one of our most predictive features,” I deadpan.

Even Ava Chen, a reclusive tech founder who reportedly hasn’t done a public interview in four years, leans in and hands me a slim matte card. “In case you’re accepting new clients. I’ve already dumped the crypto bro.”

“Good start,” I say with a wink. Some ask for photos, others just want to shake our hands. But more than a few pull us aside with a different kind of energy, curious, hopeful.

"Is there a waitlist to get matched now?" a young man in a sharp blazer asks Grayson.

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