14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Alexander
Alexander looked at twelve versions of the same lie.
On the largest screen in the conference room, Angela stood against his side at the Academy Museum.
Her fingers circled his arm, and his head bent toward her.
On another screen, his hand rested at her waist while cameras flashed.
A third showed them leaving a studio event through the same door, close enough to look like they’d arrived together.
None of the photographs showed what he’d felt because he’d felt nothing. They showed what he’d done.
Sofia sat across from him with the head of publicity and studio counsel. Open laptops covered the table. Emails, appearance plans, interview requests, and social media reports filled their screens.
Alexander pointed to the photograph of his hand on Angela’s waist. “Who asked for that pose?”
The head of publicity shifted in her chair. “The event photographer placed everyone. Angela moved in, and you followed the direction.”
“I remember. He told me to bring her closer.”
“Yes.”
“And nobody objected.”
“No.”
He opened the next message in the review file. It had come from Angela’s publicity team before the slate presentation. It said: “Audience response remains strongest when Angela and Alexander share unscripted moments. Please preserve room for natural physical warmth on the carpet and during press.”
Alexander read it again. “Natural physical warmth,” he murmured.
Sofia’s mouth tightened. “That’s one way to say it.”
“It’s a dishonest way,” he said.
“Yes.”
The head of publicity leaned forward. “They never asked us to say you were having an affair. We would’ve refused that.”
“They didn’t have to say it.” Alexander tapped the next report. “They asked you to put us together and let other people say it.”
“That’s fair.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Alexander sat back. Anger wanted an easy place to land. One bad publicist, one weak approval, one person he could remove and call the problem fixed. That would be another lie.
“I don’t mean your answer,” he explained. “Your answer is honest. The strategy wasn’t fair to my wife. It wasn’t fair to my daughters. It wasn’t fair to the truth.”
The publicity chief nodded. “No, it wasn’t.”
Sofia pulled another document onto the main screen.
It tracked searches, video views, comments, and press interest after each appearance.
The numbers rose whenever Angela touched him or leaned close.
The strongest jump followed the museum photographs.
Next to the numbers were notes from Angela’s team:
Keep the pairing organic.
Avoid spouse-centered questions.
Suggest a shared exit after the cast dinner.
The last request had been denied, but not because anyone had protected his marriage. His schedule had changed.
Alexander stared at the words. “They asked you to keep questions about Nicole away from me.”
“They said questions about your marriage broke the mood they wanted for the campaign,” the publicity chief said.
“And what did we say?”
She pulled up the reply. “We said we’d ask interviewers to focus on the film.”
“Which gave them what they wanted.”
“Yes.”
Sofia folded her arms. “Did anyone from your office ever ask what the mood was supposed to be?”
Alexander answered before the publicity chief could. “No. I didn’t.”
Sofia met his eyes. She wasn’t going to soften it for him. That was one reason he’d put her in charge of Brittle.
“Your team signed off on the appearances,” the publicity chief said carefully. “You attended them. We understood that you were comfortable with the approach.”
“You had reason to think that,” he said.
“Alexander,” Sofia said, “nobody in this room believes you wanted an affair story.”
“Intent isn’t the only thing that matters,” he said.
He’d used that defense with Nicole until she’d forced him to see past it. He wasn’t going to rebuild it here because the facts made him ashamed.
He looked around the table. “I’m not firing a junior employee for following an incentive this company created. Nobody’s getting handed to the press so I can pretend this happened below me. Cohan Studios benefited. I own Cohan Studios. I stood for those photographs. The responsibility ends with me.”
The room stayed quiet.
“Now we’re going to end it,” he said.
The head of publicity opened a clean document. “What do you want canceled?”
“Every appearance that pairs me with Angela, every joint interview request, and every planned arrival or exit. My name and image come out of the Brittle campaign except where past credits can’t be changed. Sofia represents the studio from now on.”
“You’re already off the production,” Sofia said. “This makes the public separation complete.”
“Good.”
“Angela’s team will fight it,” the publicity chief warned. “They’ll say a sudden change feeds the story.”
“Let them say it through counsel. I won’t speak to Angela informally. I won’t return to the set, and I won’t meet her alone. Those boundaries are already in place, and they aren’t changing because her publicists dislike them.”
Studio counsel made a note. “We’ll remind her representatives that production communication goes through Sofia, business affairs, or us.”
“Do it today.”
The publicity chief turned her laptop so he could see the blank page. “And the larger policy?”
Alexander thought of Nicole sitting alone with her phone while strangers told her that her husband looked better with someone else. He thought of Prim and Rose asking whether he lived at work. His company had watched attention rise and called that success.
“We don’t use an executive’s marriage, partner, or private life to create romantic speculation,” he said.
“We don’t ask anyone to perform closeness that can be sold as something it isn’t.
If talent publicity wants manufactured intimacy, the answer is no.
If the campaign depends on making a real spouse look disposable, the campaign is wrong. ”
“That’ll need exact language,” counsel said.
“Make it exact. But don’t make it narrow enough that someone can find a new way around it next month.”
Sofia nodded. “And if honest publicity gets less attention?”
“Then it gets less attention.” The answer came easily. It should’ve come months ago.
They spent the rest of the review turning his instructions into decisions.
No one read every message aloud; they didn’t need to.
The pattern stayed the same. Angela’s team pushed, Cohan publicists saw the audience response and allowed more, and Alexander arrived, posed, and left without asking what story his presence had helped tell.
When the meeting ended, the false images remained across the screens. He could’ve shut them off. Instead, he stood in front of the Academy Museum photograph and took out his phone.
His first message to Nicole was too long. It explained the review before it told her what mattered. He deleted it and tried again.
“I reviewed the full Brittle publicity campaign. Angela’s team encouraged the appearance of intimacy because people responded to it.
Our publicists didn’t invent an affair, but they allowed the speculation to grow because it helped the film.
I allowed that culture, and I took part every time I stood next to her without asking what we were selling. ”
He paused, then continued.
“I’ve canceled every paired appearance, joint interview, planned arrival, and planned exit.
I’m staying out of the production, and all informal contact with Angela remains prohibited.
We’re also putting a studio-wide policy in place.
Nobody’s real marriage or private life will be used to create romantic speculation for publicity. ”
The last part was harder because it involved a future Nicole hadn’t promised him.
“You will never open your phone again and find photographs presenting me as another woman’s partner.
No staged closeness, no hand at a waist, and no private-looking exits.
If an event ever requires me to attend, I’ll ask whether you want to be there with me.
If you don’t, I’ll decline, send another executive, or stay away from the cameras.
I know you may never choose to attend anything with me again.
This isn’t a request. I needed you to know the rule has changed. ”
He read it once, changed nothing, and sent it.
Nicole didn’t answer while he cleared the conference room. She didn’t answer as he approved the cancellations or when counsel sent the formal notice to Angela’s representatives. Alexander put his phone next to his laptop and didn’t touch it again.
It rang later. Nicole’s name filled the screen.
He answered immediately. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Her voice was low. The quiet around it told him the girls were asleep. “Is this a bad time?”
“No. It couldn’t be.”
“I read your message.”
His hope rose so fast that it hurt. He kept his voice steady. “All right.”
“You really reviewed everything?”
“Everything they collected. Emails, plans, requests, photographs, audience reports. Angela’s team kept asking for moments that looked close without calling them romantic. Our people knew the attention helped Brittle, so they didn’t stop it. Sometimes they helped arrange it.”
Nicole breathed out. “So, I wasn’t imagining that it kept getting worse.”
“No. You weren’t.”
“Did you fire anyone?”
The question surprised him only for a second. Of course she’d ask whether he’d protected himself by making someone smaller carry the blame.
“No. I’m not going to sacrifice an assistant or a junior publicist for doing what the company rewarded.
The head of publicity should’ve challenged it, but I should’ve built a company where she knew the answer before anyone asked.
I was in those pictures. I approved the events by showing up and not paying attention. ”
“Angela’s team pushed it,” Nicole said.
“They did. That doesn’t excuse us for accepting it, and it doesn’t excuse me.”
There was a short silence.
“Thank you for saying that,” Nicole said.