31. The Scotsman Who Loved Me
THE SCOTSMAN WHO LOVED ME
KARINA
Late September in Seattle brings a crispness to the air that feels like fresh starts.
The leaves are just beginning to turn, splashing the cityscape with hints of gold and crimson against the evergreen backdrop.
It's the kind of perfect autumn day where anything seems possible—even corporate redemption.
Three weeks into our relationship, I'm still adjusting to the peculiar reality of strangers recognizing me as "the hashtag lady" or "Kilted Casanova's girlfriend."
"Stop fidgeting," Viktoria whispers as we wait in the wings of Abernathy Corp's press conference room. "You look like you're about to flee the country."
"I'm considering it.” I smooth my blazer for the seventh time. "Switzerland has excellent privacy laws."
"And terrible hashtags," Susanna adds from my other side. "#SwissMiss doesn't have the same ring as #KiltedCasanova."
I resist the urge to elbow her in the ribs only because there are photographers potentially watching. "Why are you two even here? This is a corporate event, not family dinner."
"Moral support," Viktoria replies.
"Entertainment value," Susanna chimes in. "Plus, Mom made me promise to record everything for her Instagram. She and Fiona are doing a joint livestream reaction video."
"Dear god," I groan. "Our mothers are social media influencers. How is this my life?"
"The real question," Viktoria says, nodding toward the press room where reporters are settling in, "is whether your boyfriend remembered to wear underwear beneath his kilt."
"He's not wearing a kilt today," I hiss, feeling warmth spread through me. "And he's not technically my?—"
"If you say 'not technically my boyfriend,' I will personally start a new hashtag called #DenialAintJustARiverInEgypt," Susanna threatens.
Before I can respond, Alana appears at my elbow, clipboard in hand and expression professionally blank despite the evil glint in her eye.
"Ms. Peters, we're ready for you. Mr. Abernathy is already at the podium."
I take a deep breath, nod to my sisters, and follow Alana into the press room.
The space falls immediately silent as I walk toward the podium where Callum stands—tall, imposing, and devastatingly handsome in a custom suit with the subtlest hint of the McRae tartan in his pocket square.
Our eyes meet, and he gives me a small, private smile that somehow both steadies my nerves and sends them into overdrive simultaneously.
Three weeks, and he still has this effect on me.
I suspect he always will.
"Ms. Peters," he says formally, though his eyes are warm. "Shall we begin?"
I take my place beside him as cameras flash and reporters lean forward in anticipation.
The official press release describing the historic acquisition sits on tablets in front of each attendee, but it's clear from their expressions that they're hoping for something juicier than corporate strategy.
"Good morning," Callum begins, his Scottish accent more pronounced in these formal settings. "Today marks the successful completion of Abernathy Corp's acquisition of MacTavish Global, creating the world's most comprehensive digital identity protection platform."
He launches into a concise overview of the acquisition terms, strategic benefits, and integration timeline.
I watch the reporters' faces shift from eager anticipation to professional resignation as they realize this portion will be strictly business.
"As part of our expanded vision," Callum continues, "Abernathy Corp is proud to announce the creation of a new division focused on recruiting non-traditional talent into the tech sector.
The Beyond Your Label Initiative will be headed by Karina Peters, whose personal experience navigating career barriers has provided invaluable insight into systemic challenges. "
I step forward, heart racing but voice steady. "Thank you, Mr. Abernathy. I'm honored to lead this initiative, which will create pathways for candidates whose talents and abilities may not be reflected in traditional credentials."
A hand shoots up in the second row. "Ms. Peters, isn't it ironic that someone who fabricated credentials is now in charge of a recruitment program?"
The room tenses, but I'm prepared for this.
"Not ironic—appropriate," I reply. "My experience illustrates exactly why this initiative is necessary. When systems create artificial barriers based on privilege rather than ability, people find ways around those barriers. Our goal is to create legitimate pathways instead."
More hands rise.
I nod to a reporter from the Seattle Tribune.
"This question is for both of you. How can Abernathy Corp guarantee the integrity of its hiring processes after such a public credential scandal?"
Before I can respond, a familiar figure rises from the back row—Duncan MacTavish, looking surprisingly composed for a man who has recently been removed from his own company's board.
"An excellent question," he says, voice carrying through the room without a microphone. "How indeed can a company maintain standards when its CEO not only overlooked fraudulent credentials but is now romantically involved with the perpetrator?"
The room erupts in murmurs and camera clicks.
Callum's jaw tightens, but before he can speak, the door at the back of the room swings open to reveal an unexpected figure.
Fiona Abernathy herself. Resplendent in a McRae tartan suit with smartphone in hand.
"Oh, do sit down, Duncan," she calls, striding forward with remarkable speed for a woman of eighty-eight. "You're embarrassing yourself more than usual."
“Fiona,” Duncan says, a warning note in his voice.
“That’s Mrs. Abernathy to you,” she tosses back, reaching the front row. "And major shareholder to these fine reporters. I believe that gives me speaking rights."
She turns to face the room, commanding attention without effort.
"For those unfamiliar with recent developments, Duncan MacTavish was removed from his position after evidence emerged of his collusion with Richard Abernathy to sabotage both Abernathy Corp's public image and Ms. Peters' reputation.
His presence here is as relevant as last season's tartan—which is to say, not at all. "
Duncan's face reddens as several reporters snicker behind their hands.
"As for the question of integrity," Fiona keeps on, "I believe my grandson can address that directly."
She nods to Callum, who looks torn between corporate composure and exasperation.
"Thank you, Grandmother," he says with remarkable restraint. "And yes, I can address the question of integrity. Abernathy Corp's commitment to security and trust remains unwavering. What has evolved is our understanding of talent assessment."
He glances at me, then continues with growing conviction.
"Karina Peters possesses exceptional skills and insights that have transformed not only our marketing strategies but our corporate culture.
Her journey—which she has shared with complete transparency through her #TheRealKarina campaign—represents exactly the kind of authentic leadership we value. "
Duncan scoffs audibly. "Authenticity? She built her career on lies."
"No.” Callum levels him with a green glare. “She built her career on talent, determination, and overcoming obstacles that people like you and I have never faced. The credential issues were a symptom of a broken system, not a character flaw."
The room falls silent, captivated by this unexpected defense.
"Ms. Peters has taught me—has taught all of us at Abernathy Corp—what true resilience looks like," Callum continues.
"She had the courage to share her story publicly, knowing it might end her career.
Instead, it has launched a national conversation about credential gatekeeping that is long overdue. "
I blink rapidly, taken aback by both the public praise and the emotion barely concealed beneath his professional tone.
Duncan opens his mouth to retort, but a security officer appears discreetly at his side.
After a brief, hushed exchange, he exits with as much dignity as one can muster while being escorted from a press conference.
A young reporter in the front row raises her hand tentatively. "This might be inappropriate, but social media users are dying to know: what exactly is the status of your relationship?"
The room holds its collective breath.
I glance at Callum, unsure how he'll handle this intrusion into our personal lives.
To my surprise, his full lips break out into a smile.
"We're still workshopping potential hashtags," he says with perfect deadpan delivery. "Ms. Peters feels #KiltedCasanova lacks longevity, while I find her suggestion of #AuthenticityEver somewhat lacking in viral potential."
Startled laughter ripples through the room, breaking the tension.
"In all seriousness," he adds, "our personal relationship status is secondary to our professional commitment to transforming Abernathy Corp into a company that values authentic talent in all its forms."
The response is diplomatic yet cleverly evasive—pure CEO billionaire brilliance—but then he reaches over and takes my hand, a gesture so unexpected and public that I nearly gasp.
"But yes," he concludes, "we are together. And remarkably happy about it, despite the unprecedented public scrutiny."
The press room erupts into a frenzy of questions and camera flashes.
From the corner of my eye, I see Susanna gleefully recording everything while Viktoria tries to maintain her dignified composure in spite of her growing smile.
"That wasn't in the press briefing," I murmur to Callum as we field questions about the integration timeline.
"Improvisation," he replies under his breath. "I'm learning from you."
"I've created a monster."
"A more authentic monster.” He squeezes my hand before returning to corporate mode to answer a question about cybersecurity protocols.
As the press conference continues, I marvel at the strange journey that brought us here—from viral humiliation to corporate redemption, from fabricated credentials to authentic relationship.
Three weeks ago, I was convinced my career was over.
Now I'm heading an initiative that might change the tech industry's approach to talent.
The official portion concludes, and as we prepare to leave the podium, Fiona appears at my side.
"Well done, dear," she says, patting my arm. "Your Instagram followers have increased by twenty-three thousand in the last hour. My livestream with your mother broke all our previous records."
"That's... great?"
"Indeed. We're thinking of launching a joint podcast. 'Grandmothers Know Best: Scottish-Armenian Edition.'"
Callum groans beside me. "Please tell me you're joking."
"Certainly not. We've already recorded three episodes. The one about your childhood fear of bagpipes is particularly charming."
"I was never afraid of bagpipes," he protests.
"The home video suggests otherwise, dear." She pats his cheek consolingly. "Don't worry, we've only shared it with our premium subscribers."
As Fiona glides away to charm reporters, Callum looks at me, green eyes unblinking. "What have we unleashed?"
"The most formidable social media force since the Kardashians," I reply solemnly. "Our mothers are influencers now. We'll never recover."
He laughs, the sound still rare enough to make my heart skip.
"Worth it," he decides, brushing a strand of hair from my face with casual intimacy. "Even the unauthorized musical seems a small price to pay."
"Speaking of which," I say as we exit the press room, "I got us tickets to the preview. Front row seats."
His eyes widen in alarm. "You didn't."
"I absolutely did. If they're going to dramatize our love story with unauthorized musical numbers, the least we can do is critique their accuracy."
"Next you'll tell me you've agreed to that reality show about living with viral fame."
"Well, about that..."
"Karina…”
“Oh come on. I’m kidding," I assure him as we walk toward his office, trailed at a discreet distance by Alana. "They did offer an obscene amount of money."
"Which we'll decline," he says. “Some things should remain private."
"Says the man who just announced our relationship status to the entire tech press corps."
"A calculated risk," he argues. "It prevents speculation and establishes boundaries."
"Very billionaire founder of you." I nudge his shoulder. "But also surprisingly romantic."
His expression softens as we reach his office door. "I'm learning to balance both sides. The strategic and the emotional. The professional and the personal." He raises my hand to his lips in a gesture that sends warmth cascading through me. "Thanks to you."
"Ditto," I whisper, still amazed by how far we've both come.
Alana clears her throat behind us. "Sorry to interrupt, but Connor's on the phone demanding to know why he wasn't informed about your 'relationship status announcement' beforehand so Ariana could 'prepare the appropriate social media response strategy.'"
Callum's deadpan expression is perfect. "Tell him I'm currently workshopping hashtags with Ms. Peters and cannot be disturbed."
"I'll phrase it more professionally," Alana promises with a barely suppressed smile.
As she leaves, Callum pulls me into his office and closes the door, finally giving us a moment of privacy in the midst of this very public day.
"So," he says, gently tugging me closer. "About those hashtags..."
"I was thinking #AuthenticAlways has a nice ring to it," I suggest, winding my arms around his neck.
"Too corporate." He brushes his lips against mine. "#KiltedForKeeps?"
"Too cheesy." I smile against his mouth. "We'll workshop it."
"Indeed," he agrees, kissing me properly. "We have all the time in the world."