Page 257 of Invisible Bars
“The public wants a response, Imanio. Half of them think it’s real; the other half think you ghosted a pregnant woman. We’re losing ground on sympathy!”
“I don’t need sympathy,” I murmured.
And I meant that.
It had been three days since that fake-ass announcement hit the internet. Three days of my name being dragged, twisted, and reshaped into headlines that didn’t belong to me. I was supposed to speak out two days prior. PR was ready and Saroya had the talking points locked in, cameras on standby, but I didn’t want to give it air. I stayed quiet, hoping the internet would do what it always does—get bored, move on, or pick another name to ruin.
It didn’t.
That one stuck. Not because it was true, but because lies are louder.
“No,” she fired back, “but your brand does! You’ve got deals lined up! A philanthropic campaign launching next week! If we let this spiral?—”
“She’s lying, though,” I cut in, voice like stone. “And you want me to stand on a stage and tell the world I didn’t nut in her?”
Saroya didn’t get upset; she was used to my venom.
“No. I want you to reclaim the narrative before she gains too much control over it.”
I leaned back and crossed my arms.
“And what exactly would I say?”
“That you’re aware of the rumors! That there’s no truth to them! That you wish her peace and healing, but that these kinds of false accusations harm real victims.”
I stared at her.
“You want me to sound like a politician who just got caught cheating but still wants votes. You might as well write it in cursive and slap it on an Instagram story with a sad piano track.”
Saroya pressed her palms flat on the table. “It’s what separatesmen in suitsfrommen in headlines. You decide.”
I chuckled. “I was just fuckin’ with you,” I said, then pushed back from the table and rose to my feet. “We’ll do it live today… this afternoon…. two o’clock.”
“I thought you’d see things my way.” She smirked, then added, “About to get on this now.”
I adjusted my cuff again, rolled my neck once, and exhaled through my nose.
Two o’clock.Time to make a liar beg for relevance.
The mirror caught the sharp angles of my face as I adjusted the collar of my black button-down. My watch gleamed under thesoft lights of the prep room—silent, ticking, like a fuse about to go off.
Saroya stood behind me, tablet in hand, her heels tapping against the floor like a metronome for my patience. She wore a slate-gray power suit and a no-nonsense expression to match.
“Okay,” she started, flipping to a page. “Let’s go over this again. You’re addressing the allegations, not the woman. Keep your tone composed, not confrontational. You don’t owe them your rage—just your clarity.”
I exhaled slowly, rolling my neck.
“This is ridiculous,” I muttered. “You’d think people would stop believing gossip made on a Notes app.”
Saroya arched a brow behind me.
“You’re an attractive, reserved man with a reputation for being grumpy, Imanio. The online world loves to latch onto characters like you. They’ll accept whatever sensational story generates clicks. But today, we’re the ones who control the narrative.”
I looked up at her reflection in the mirror, noticing the serious yet determined look in her eyes.
“Letting her lie on my name like that—on my family? That’s declaring war.”
Saroya’s expression softened, though only slightly.
