Chapter 20 Carina
Carina
Iwake to my phone buzzing like an angry wasp. Once. Twice. Then constantly, the nightstand vibrates with notifications I'm too afraid to check. Beside me, Knox groans and pulls a pillow over his head.
"Make it stop," he mumbles.
"Working on it." I grab the phone, squinting at the screen. Forty-seven missed calls. Over a hundred texts. My Instagram followers have tripled overnight, and the message requests...
"Oh god."
Knox sits up at my tone. "What's wrong?"
I wordlessly hand him the phone, showing him the Google alert Travis must have set up for me weeks ago. My name, which should have maybe one or two results about culinary competitions, now has thousands.
BILLIONAIRE LOVE TRIANGLE: CEO's Mystery Woman Caught Between Brothers
EXCLUSIVE: Eden Provisions Executives Share More Than Stock Options
Who Is Carina Stevens? The Chef Heating Up Switzerland's Richest Kitchen
The photos are everywhere. Travis kissing me, Knox's hand possessive on my waist, William standing close enough to make it clear we're all together. Some clever photographer even caught the moment William tried to shield me, spinning it as him being "protective of his woman."
"Fuck," Knox breathes. "This is... fuck."
My hands shake as I scroll through article after article.
They've found my LinkedIn, my old restaurant reviews, even my high school yearbook photo.
Someone's posted my divorce records—public information, apparently.
The comments are worse than the articles.
Strangers discussing my body, my morals, my "gold-digging agenda. "
My phone rings again. Unknown number. Against my better judgment, I answer.
"Carina Stevens?"
"Yes?"
"This is Jennifer Walsh from the Daily Telegraph. I'd love to get your side of the story about your relationship with the Montclair brothers. Are you involved with both of them? Is Travis Hale also—"
I hang up, hands shaking. The phone immediately rings again. Different number, probably the same questions.
"Don't answer," Knox says, taking the phone from me. "Never answer. They twist everything."
William appears in my doorway without knocking, dressed in his usual business attire even though it’s early, phone pressed to his ear. His face is carved from stone, that particular expression he gets when he's compartmentalizing emotions.
"No comment," he's saying. "Direct all inquiries to our legal team." He ends the call and looks at us—me in my robe, Knox shirtless in my bed. Something flickers across his face. "The board is convening an emergency meeting in three hours. Via video, thankfully."
"Will—" Knox starts.
"Get dressed. Both of you. We need to strategize before this gets worse."
"How can it get worse?" I ask.
William's phone rings again. He glances at it and his expression darkens further. "That's how. Your ex-husband has been calling Eden's corporate line."
The blood drains from my face. "Dylan?"
"He's seen the photos. He wants to discuss 'mutual interests.'" William's voice could freeze hell. "He's already contacted three tabloids offering an exclusive tell-all about your marriage."
I'm going to be sick. I bolt for the bathroom, barely making it before my stomach rebels. This can't be happening. Not Dylan. Not now, when I finally feel free of him.
Knox follows me into the bathroom, kneeling down beside me. He holds my hair back, murmuring soothing words while I shake. "It's okay. We'll handle it. Will's probably already got six lawyers on it."
"You don't understand," I manage between heaves. "Dylan knows things. Embarrassing things. He'll—"
"He'll shut his fucking mouth if he knows what's good for him," William says from the doorway. His intense tone is almost more terrifying than if he were yelling. "I've dealt with parasites like him before."
"This is my fault," I whisper. "I should have been more careful. Should have known photographers might—"
"Stop." Knox's voice is firm. "This isn't your fault. We were in public, acting like normal people in a relationship. That's not a crime."
"The board doesn't see it that way," William says. His phone buzzes again. "That's the third member to express 'concerns' about my judgment. They want to know if this is why we hired you. If the expansion was compromised by personal interests."
Each word hits me like a slap in the face. They think I'm some kind of gold digger. That I seduced my way into a job.
"Tell them the truth," I say, standing on shaky legs. "That I was hired on merit. That the relationship developed after—"
"They won't care about the timeline." William's already typing, probably to lawyers. "They care about optics. And right now, the optics are that their CEO is involved in some sordid—"
"Sordid?" Knox stands too, anger flashing. "Is that what you think this is?"
"That's what they think it is."
"And you care more about their opinion than—"
"I care about protecting her!" William snaps, finally showing emotion. "Do you have any idea what the media will do? They'll dig into her past, her marriage, anything that can get their hands on—"
My phone rings in Knox's hand. We all freeze as he checks the caller ID.
"Who is it?" I ask.
"Dylan," he says quietly.
I take the phone with trembling fingers. I don't want to answer, but I need to know what he's planning.
"Hello, Dylan."
"Carina! Baby!" His voice is fake as fuck, the tone he always used when he wanted something. "Saw you've been busy. Three rich guys? Really trading up from pathetic old me."
"What do you want?"
"Straight to business. I've missed that about you." I can hear his smirk. "Here's the thing. The Daily Mail is offering fifty grand for an exclusive. But I thought, why sell to strangers when the family should benefit?"
"We're not family anymore."
"No, but we have history. History is worth a lot more than fifty grand to people who want to avoid embarrassment." He pauses, and I can picture him in his overpriced apartment, calculating how much misery he can monetize. "Remember those photos you let me take? The ones where you're—"
"Stop." My voice cracks.
"See, you do remember. Imagine those on the front page. 'Eden Provisions Chef's Kinky Past' has a nice ring to it."
"You're trying to blackmail me?" My voice is steadier than I feel.
"Such an ugly word. I prefer 'mutual benefit.' I stay quiet, you stay comfortable in your new arrangement. Everyone wins."
"How much?" William takes the phone from me. "How much to make you go away?"
"Ah, the CEO speaks! I was hoping we'd chat. Let's say... five hundred thousand? Seems reasonable for discretion about Carina's... proclivities."
"You'll have a cashier's check by the end of business," William says coldly. "And a legal agreement that ensures your silence."
"Will, no," I protest, but he's already ending the call.
"You can't pay him," I say. "You can't just—"
"I can and I will." He's in full CEO mode, the William who negotiates hostile takeovers before breakfast. "Travis is already working with legal on an NDA. We'll bury him in paperwork and penalties if he breathes a word."
"This is insane." I sink onto the bed. "You're going to pay my ex-husband half a million dollars to be quiet about... what? That I like being tied up sometimes? That I have daddy issues? Whatever humiliating thing he thinks is worth money?"
"Yes," William says simply. "To protect you."
"I don't need protection! I need—" I stop, not even sure what I need. Space. Time. A universe where my past doesn't collide with my present like this.
Travis appears with his laptop, looking grim. "It gets worse. Dylan's been shopping around more than just stories. He's contacted Klaus."
"Klaus?" My stomach drops further. "Our cheese supplier Klaus?"
"Offered to share 'insights about Ms. Stevens' professional conduct' for a price." Travis's jaw is tight. "Klaus is considering it, thinking it might give him leverage for better contracts."
"This is unreal," Knox says, running his hands through his hair. "How did it get this bad this fast?"
My phone rings again. Unknown number.
"Don't—" Knox starts, but I've already answered.
"Ms. Stevens? This is Patricia Winters from Eden Provisions' board of directors."
My stomach drops. "Yes?"
"I wanted to reach out personally. The board is meeting shortly to discuss... recent developments. I'd like to assure you that your professional contributions are valued, regardless of personal circumstances."
It sounds reassuring, but I hear the subtext. They're deciding if I'm too much of a liability to keep around.
"Thank you," I managed.
"However," she continues, "we do need to understand the full picture. Are you romantically involved with Mr. Montclair? Which Mr. Montclair, exactly? And is Mr. Hale also—"
"Patricia." William's taken the phone again. "This is inappropriate. Any questions about personnel should go through the proper channels."
I can hear her response, tinny but clear: "Mr. Montclair, the stock price has dropped twenty points since the photos surfaced. The shareholders deserve answers."
He hangs up on her. On a board member. Because of me.
"The stock price?" I feel sick again. "I'm affecting the stock price?"
"It's temporary," Travis assures me. "Market speculation. It'll stabilize."
"When? After my entire sexual history is tabloid fodder? After Dylan sells every embarrassing detail of our marriage?" I'm losing it right now, I know it, but I can't stop. "God, the things he knows. The things I told him, trusted him with..."
"Hey." Knox pulls me against him. "Whatever he knows, whatever he says, it doesn't change who you are now. You're not that scared girl in a bad marriage anymore."
"Aren't I? Because I feel exactly like her right now. Exposed. Humiliated. Waiting for the next blow to fall."
They all look at me, and I see it clearly—three powerful men ready to go to war for me. It should feel romantic. Instead, it feels suffocating.
"This has to stop," I say. "I'll leave. Go back to New York. Let things calm down—"
"Absolutely not," William and Knox say in unison.
"You're not running because some assholes with cameras decided to make our private life public," Knox adds.
"It's not just photographers anymore," Travis says, typing rapidly. "The story's been picked up internationally. The Sun, Daily Mail, some US outlets.”
Each word is another nail in the coffin of my new life. I built something here. Found love, found purpose, found myself.
"There has to be something we can do," Knox says. "Some way to get ahead of this."
"We could release our own statement," Travis suggests. "Control the narrative."
"Saying what?" William's pacing now. "That we're in a polyamorous relationship? That'll go over well with the board."
"Maybe the truth is better than speculation," I say quietly.
They all turn to look at me.
"Think about it," I continue, warming to the idea. "Right now, they're making up stories. Love triangles, secret affairs, whatever sells papers. But what if we just... told the truth? That we're four consenting adults in a relationship?"
"The board would lose their minds," William says.
"They're already losing their minds," I point out. "At least this way, we control the story."
"It's not a bad idea," Travis says slowly. "Transparency could work in our favor."
"Or it could destroy everything," William counters. "The company's reputation, our professional standings—"
"Our reputations are already under attack," Knox interrupts. "At least this way, we're fighting back instead of hiding."
My phone rings again. This time, it's a number I recognize. Lila.
"I have to take this," I say, escaping to the balcony.
"Babe, what the fuck?" Lila's voice is a lifeline. "You're all over the gossip sites. Are you okay?"
"It's complicated."
"No shit. But are you okay? Do you need me to come to Switzerland? I'll cut a bitch if I need to."
Even with all the stress going on in my life right now, I laugh. "I'm... handling it. The men are being protective. Too protective, maybe."
"Let them protect you," she says firmly. "After what Dylan put you through, you deserve an army of hot men ready to defend your honor."
"Dylan's trying to blackmail us."
"Of course he is. That pathetic little fuck." She pauses. "Carina, whatever he threatens to reveal, whatever he says—fuck him. You survived him once. You'll survive this too."
"What if I don't want to just survive anymore?" The words come out small. "What if I want to actually live without my past haunting me?"
"Then you fight," she says simply. "You stand up with those three men who obviously adore you, and you tell the world to fuck off. Love is love, babe. Even if it comes in a different package than everyone else is used to."
When I go back inside, the three of them are huddled around Travis's laptop, planning something. They look up when I enter, and I see it all in their faces—determination, worry, love.
"Okay," I say. "What's the plan?"
William looks at me for a long moment. "We're going to get ahead of this. Travis is drafting a statement acknowledging our relationship. Not details, just confirming we're together. All of us."
"And Dylan?"
"I've got our best lawyers on it," William's smile is sharp. "Turns out he has some interesting tax issues. We can absolutely use that to make sure he keeps his mouth shut like he’s agreed to."
"We're also reaching out to Klaus," Travis adds. "Making it clear that any deals with Dylan will result in terminated contracts."
"And I'm calling every media contact I have," Knox says. "If they want a story about us, they'll get our version, not his."
I look at these three men, ready to take on the world for me, and feel something shift in me. This is what love looks like. Not manipulation, but protection and partnership.
My phone buzzes with another unknown number. This time, I decline without hesitation. The world wants to tear us apart, expose our secrets, judge our choices.
Let them try. We're stronger than they know.
And Dylan? He's about to learn what happens when you threaten someone protected by the Montclair empire.
Game on.