Page 113 of Wisteria and Cloves

I felt myself shrinking inward, the weight of their words pressing against my chest until it became difficult to breathe. The room seemed too bright suddenly, too exposed.

"What does this mean for me?" I asked, hating how small my voice sounded. "For us?"

Miles's eyes softened as they met mine. "It means, we fight back. Not with their tactics, but with truth."

Christopher nodded. "Mara's already working on counter-strategies. Authentic glimpses of your happiness, your growth. We document everything," Christopher continued, his gray eyes intense. "Your genuine joy, your artistic growth, the life you're building. When people see the real you—not their manufactured version—the contrast will be undeniable."

Nicolaus pulled up another screen on his tablet. "We've also prepared a comprehensive psychological evaluation to counter their claims. Dr. Chen has agreed to provide testimony about your mental state and the positive effects of coming off suppressants."

"You've thought of everything," I said, a mixture of gratitude and overwhelm washing through me. "But what if it's not enough? What if people believe them?"

Julian's jaw tightened. "Then we escalate. We have resources they don't expect—political connections, media relationships, legal precedents. But more importantly, we have something they never counted on."

"What's that?" I asked, fidgeting with the ends of my dress.

“You,” Miles said simply. The word cut through the room with quiet finality, like a gavel striking down.You. Just one syllable—but it landed with the weight of everything I’d been running from and everything I was finally beginning to understand.

I stared at him, momentarily stunned, as if the floor had shifted beneath me. His eyes—deep green and steady—held mine without flinching, without hesitation. There was no doubt in them. No room for it.

“Me?” I asked, my voice almost a whisper. Fragile, uncertain. I wasn’t even sure if I meant it as a question or a plea.

“They didn’t count on you becoming this version of yourself,” Miles said, his tone soft but unrelenting. “The one who sees through their manipulation. The one who recognizes the cage they built and still found the strength to walk away from it.”

My chest ached. Not because his words hurt—but because they rang so painfully true. I had walked away, hadn’t I? Not just from a house or a family name—but from an entire legacy built on control, image, and expectation.

“And strong enough to stay away,” Christopher added from the couch, his voice gentler now. The edge had left him, replaced by something quieter—admiration, maybe. “That’s what they didn’t see coming. They thought you’d break. But you didn’t.”

His words settled around me like a warm coat against the bitter cold of my doubts. Not wanting to shrink anymore I moved to the edge of the couch and straightened my back.

Julian’s hand slid up the length of my spine, a slow and steady motion that chased away the shiver building there. His fingertips moved in slow, deliberate circles between my shoulder blades, grounding me. “You don’t have to shout to be heard, Lilianna,” he murmured, his lips close to my temple. “We’ll make sure your truth speaks louder than any of their lies.”

I looked at them—really looked at them. These men who had no reason to fight this battle, who didn’t owe me anything, and yet stood beside me like they’d been born to shield me. Not just with their power or their influence—but with their unwavering presence. Their loyalty. Their belief in me.

They didn’t see me as a pawn or a problem to fix. They sawme.

“What do we do next?” I asked, my voice steadier now. Low, yes—but not trembling. Not anymore.

Nicolaus, still standing apart with his tablet balanced in his hand, lifted his gaze to meet mine. “We don’t fight fire with fire,” he said calmly, the flickering light from the fireplace casting shadows across his sharp features. “We don’t post videos. We don’t air our truth for the world to tear apart. That’s what they’d expect—and they’re ready to twist it.”

I frowned, brow furrowing. “Then what?” I asked. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in something like this.”

“We let people see you,” he said simply. “The real you. But naturally. Quietly. No viral statements. No rehearsed declarations. Just… life.”

“Life?” I repeated, tilting my head slightly, confused. “What do you mean?”

Christopher leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his voice calm but firm. “You’ve already been doing it, Lilianna. The bookstore trip, the photos in the greenhouse, laughing with us at the boutique. People are seeing you just by being around you—by watching how you carry yourself, how you live. It’s not curated, it’s authentic. That’s what makes it powerful.”

I blinked. “You think… will people believe that?”

“They’ll feel it,” Miles said. “And they’ll compare it to the story your parents are trying to sell. One version will feel forced and the other? Real.” I watched as he let that sink in before he continued. “We amplify that,” he continued, arms crossing over his chest. “We let the public come to their own conclusion without ever once needing to justify ourselves. The truth doesn’t need to be justified, it only needs to be lived.”

I swallowed the tightness building in my throat. “And the legal side?” I asked, my fingers twisting nervously at the hem of my skirt.

Nicolaus’s fingers moved fluidly over his screen. “We continue building our case. We already have statements from people who’ve known you throughout your life. Staff, tutors, even your old nanny—she was eager to help. They’ve all seen the pressure your family placed on you. Some of them tried to intervene before. Now they want to testify.”

Julian’s arm tightened around me. “And we’ve hired a media law team to monitor and intercept any smear attempts your parents might try to leak. If they so much as make a whisper about you to the press, we’ll be ready to bury it in facts and calm, polished responses.”

A breath left me—slow and shaky. “So we fight… by living?”

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