19. Amara
AMARA
The canvas refuses to cooperate. I've been at it since nine, layering burnt sienna over cadmium yellow, trying to build depth into what's supposed to be a study on fractured identity. Instead, it looks like a muddy mess that belongs in a dumpster.
I scrape half of it off with a palette knife, start again.
The studio hums around me. Other artists in their spaces, music bleeding through walls, the occasional burst of laughter from the break room.
Normal sounds. But nothing feels normal today because I woke up alone in my bed with Cassian's scent still on my sheets from nights ago and his absence creating a hollow ache deep in my heart.
"Amara."
Katheryn's voice cuts through my concentration. I look up. She's standing in the doorway of my studio space, tablet clutched to her chest. A deep frown is on her lips.
I straighten up. "What?"
"We need to talk."
"I'm working?—"
"Now, honey." Not a request.
I set my palette down, wipe my hands on a rag already stiff with dried paint. With each step down the hallway toward her office, my stomach tightens even more.
She closes the door behind us. Doesn't sit, just hands me the tablet with the screen facing up.
It's a gossip website. Manhattan Elite Daily or some garbage like that. And there, splashed across the homepage with a photo that makes my blood run cold, is a headline in bold letters:
"Cassian Griffin's Hidden Family Exposed."
Below it, a photo. June and me in Central Park from last weekend, her on my shoulders, both of us laughing. Someone captured it from a distance but close enough to make out our faces.
The article continues below the fold. I scroll, nausea building with each sentence.
"Sources close to the Griffin family confirm that billionaire heir Cassian Griffin, 28, has a five-year-old daughter with artist Amara Campbell. The child, whose name has not been released, was reportedly kept secret for years while Campbell lived abroad in Barcelona and London under a pseudonym.
The revelation comes on the heels of Black Lake's announcement of a major collaboration with Sapphire Studios, helmed by Campbell herself. Industry insiders are questioning whether the partnership is legitimate business or simply nepotism disguised as art.
'It's convenient timing,' says one anonymous source familiar with the fashion industry. 'Campbell shows up in New York, suddenly lands a massive deal with Black Lake, and oh by the way, she has Cassian Griffin's secret child? The whole thing reeks of opportunism.'
Representatives for Black Lake and Sapphire Studios have declined to comment. Campbell could not be reached.
This development is sure to complicate Griffin's already tangled personal life. He's been romantically linked to fashion designer Raylin Hart for years, though neither has confirmed a relationship. Hart's father, Leonard Hart, maintains significant business ties with the Griffin family.
More details to follow as this story develops."
I read it twice. Then a third time, hands shaking so badly the tablet nearly slips from my grip.
"How?" The word comes out strangled. "How did they find out?"
"I don't know." Katheryn takes the tablet back, sets it on her desk. "But it's everywhere. Every gossip site, social media, trending on Twitter. Someone leaked this deliberately."
My mind races. Who knew about June?
"Raylin," I breathe.
"What?"
"Raylin Hart. She's been obsessed with Cassian for years. Saw him as hers. If she found out about June, if she realized he slept with me..." The pieces click into place with sickening clarity. "She did this. To punish him and to make our collaboration look like a sham."
Katheryn's jaw tightens. "Can you prove it?"
"No. But who else has motive? Who else would benefit from making me look like an opportunist using my daughter to trap a billionaire?"
"Half of Manhattan high society, honestly. Cassian Griffin's personal life is prime gossip fodder." She sighs, rubbing at her face. "But you're probably right. Raylin Hart has the connections to leak this kind of story and the vindictiveness to actually do it."
My phone vibrates. Then again. And again. I pull it out, watch notifications flood the screen. Text messages, emails, social media mentions, all coming in so fast I can't keep up.
"Fuck," I mutter. I silence my phone, shove it in my pocket. "This is a nightmare."
"We need some damage control," Katheryn says. "Starting now. No statements to the press without running them by me first. No social media posts. We go dark until we figure out our strategy."
"What about the collaboration? Is Black Lake going to pull out?"
"I don't know. But I'm calling Lucian Griffin as soon as you leave this office." She turns back to face me. "Amara, I need you to be honest with me. Is this collaboration legitimate? Or did Cassian push for it because of his personal feelings for you?"
The question stings. "I… It's legitimate. He saw my work at the preview event, recognized its value, brought it to his father's attention. Yes, we have history and yes, he wants to be part of June's life. But the partnership stands on its own merit."
"You're sure about that?"
"Positive."
"Okay. Then we treat it as legitimate and dare anyone to prove otherwise. Your work is extraordinary. Black Lake needs what you're offering. The personal connection is irrelevant to the business value."
"Except the entire internet thinks I slept my way into this deal."
"The entire internet thinks a lot of stupid things.
We don't engage with stupidity. We focus on the work and let it speak for itself.
" She picks up her phone, scrolls through something.
"I'm drafting a statement, confirming that yes, you have a daughter and yes, Cassian Griffin is the father.
That's it. No details about your relationship, just the facts. "
"Will that be enough?"
"Probably not. But it's a good start."
My phone rings. I ignore it. The studio space that felt like sanctuary this morning now feels exposed, vulnerable. Anyone could be watching, taking photos, gathering information to feed to the gossip machine.
Katheryn sets her phone down. "You need to prepare June. If the media has photos of her, if they're digging into your life, she's going to hear things at school. From other kids, from parents, from teachers who don't know how to handle this delicately."
The thought of June hearing about this from anyone except me makes my stomach turn. "I'll talk to her tonight."
"And Cassian?"
"What about him?"
"Have you spoken to him since this broke?"
"No, I haven't—" My phone buzzes again. I pull it out, see his name on the screen. "He's calling now."
"Take it. I need to start making calls anyway." She gestures toward the door. "Use one of the private conference rooms. Don't let this break you, Amara. You've survived worse."
I'm not sure that's true, but I nod anyway, leave her office, and find an empty conference room down the hall. I close the door, lock it, and press answer.
"Amara—"
"Did you see it?" I snap. "The articles, the photos, all of it?"
"Yes. I've been dealing with it all morning. My publicist is losing her mind, my father's threatening legal action against the gossip sites, and?—"
"Raylin did this, didn't she?"
"…I know."
"You know?" Rage floods through me so fast it steals my breath. "And you didn't think to warn me? To give me a heads-up that she might leak this information?"
"I didn't think she'd actually do it! I thought she was just angry, blowing off steam?—"
"You thought wrong. And now my daughter's face is plastered all over the internet, my credibility is being questioned, people are calling me an opportunist who used her child to trap a billionaire, all because your ex-girlfriend can't handle rejection!"
"She's not my ex-girlfriend?—"
"I don't care what she is, Cassian! She did this to hurt us. To hurt June. And you gave her the ammunition."
"I never meant for this to happen!"
"I've spent five years building a life for my daughter. Keeping her safe, keeping her out of the spotlight, making sure she has stability and privacy. And in the span of a few days, you destroyed all of that. Because you couldn't stay away, couldn't respect boundaries, couldn't?—"
"You kissed me! You invited me into your bed!"
"I made a mistake. The biggest one of my fucking life. One I'm paying for right now while you sit in your penthouse with your publicist cleaning up your mess."
"It's our mess, Amara. We're in this together."
"No. We're not. You get to be Cassian Griffin, billionaire heir with a secret love child.
Poor rich boy who didn't know he had a daughter.
The media will paint you as sympathetic, maybe even admirable for stepping up now.
But me? I'm the woman who hid his child and then conveniently showed up right when a major collaboration was on the table.
I'm the villain in this story and you handed Raylin the pen. "
He's quiet for a long moment. Eventually, I hear him sigh. "What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to fix this. Handle Raylin, handle the press, handle your father's concern about Black Lake's reputation. And stay away from me and June until this dies down."
"Amara—"
"I mean it, Cassian. No showing up at my apartment, no trying to insert yourself into our routine. We do this properly now, through lawyers if we have to. With clear boundaries and scheduled visitation and none of this chaotic back-and-forth that keeps blowing up in our faces."
"This isn't right. You're shutting me out again."
"I'm protecting my daughter, actually."
"No, it looks like you're using June as an excuse to run every time things get complicated."
Even if the accusation is as accurate as the sky is blue, I have a pretty damn good reason to run from him. My daughter's face is on gossip websites, her privacy is violated, her life is disrupted because I made the catastrophic mistake of letting Cassian back in.
"Goodbye, Cassian."
I end the call before he can respond and collapse in one of the nearby chairs, staring at my phone while my heart hammers against my ribs and fury wars with something that feels dangerously close to regret.
My phone rings again. Not Cassian this time. An unknown number. I answer without thinking, exasperation seeping into my bones.
"Ms. Campbell? This is Tana Mayer from New York Magazine. I'm writing a profile piece on emerging artists and wondered if you'd be willing to comment on your relationship with Cassian Griffin and how it influenced?—"
I hang up and block the number. Then I open my settings and silence calls from anyone not in my contacts.
A knock on the conference room door makes me jump. Katheryn's voice filters through. "Amara? Lucian Griffin's on the phone. He wants to talk to both of us."
I take a deep breath. Mustering the very last ounce of strength in me, I pull myself up to my feet.
Whatever happens next, I face it head-on. Because that's what I do. I survive, even when the wreckage of my past mistakes burn bright all around me.