Chapter 35
Nothing stays secret for long.
For a few precious minutes, the world stayed silent.
They walked side by side through the narrow corridor, Emma’s lips still tingling from the kiss. Her heartbeat felt different—slower, heavier—like something fundamental in her rhythm had shifted.
Darren’s hand stayed on her waist, his thumb rubbing patterns through the suit. Every so often, Emma caught him glancing at her. Each time, his mouth curved into a smile, and a small ripple of warmth went through her.
For the last few days, she’d been in the spotlight, in front of hundreds of fans. Yet she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so truly seen as she did under his quiet gaze.
Emma’s phone buzzed against her thigh, where she had stashed it in one of the stillsuit’s countless pockets. She pulled it out, finding a text from Leah.
Meet me outside the cafeteria lounge. Now.
Just that. No exaggerations, no emojis, no exclamation points. Emma frowned, slowing to a stop and showing it to Darren.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s go see what she wants.”
“We should probably change back first,” Emma said. The tone of Leah’s text hinted at a conversation she’d rather not have in cosplay. “That break room should be just up ahead.”
Darren made a face. “Didn’t think we’d come back this way. I asked Sienna to grab our clothes. She’ll be upstairs somewhere.”
“Oh,” Emma said, voice hollow.
He brushed his thumb over her arm, reassuring. “Hey. I’m sure it’s nothing. Let’s just go talk to her.”
The corridor ended at a staircase that took them straight into the backstage area. They turned a corner to find Leah waiting just outside the cafeteria, arms crossed, phone in hand. The grim look on her face made Emma’s chest seize up tight.
“Leah,” she said, trying for light. “Is everything okay?”
Leah looked up, eyes traveling between them in their stillsuits. “Not really.” She didn’t show the slightest bit of surprise at seeing them in costumes. “Seems we’re making a habit out of meeting like this.”
When they reached her, she handed her phone to Emma without a word, screen still glowing.
Emma’s stomach lurched, nausea washing through her.
A grainy, zoomed-in phone shot was open on the screen. The subject of the photo was blurry but unmistakable.
She and Darren, pressed together in their stillsuits—caught mid-kiss. The angle put the photographer just a bit further down the corridor where they had just been.
“Oh my god.” Emma’s voice came out strangled. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Leah, I—”
Darren swore under his breath. “The paparazzo. He must have seen where we went in and tipped someone off on the inside.”
“There was a paparazzo?” Leah said coldly, her brows arching.
He pointed sharply at the phone. “This is a serious NDA violation. Backstage photos are strictly forbidden for all crew members. Whoever took this is about to face some real consequences.”
“Oh, trust me, I’m on it.” The look Leah aimed at him was sharp enough that Emma blinked in surprise.
“But what the actual hell were you thinking? I told you to keep a low profile, and you go out running around on the freaking Con floor? In stillsuits? It’s not five minutes since this photo dropped, and my phone is already a nuclear meltdown.
Do you have any idea what kind of risk you were taking?
And I’m not even talking about PR. It’s absolute madness out there. What about basic security?”
“We were careful, Leah.” Emma steeled her voice, but the words rang thin, even to her own ears.
“Not careful enough, clearly,” Leah snapped.
“Miranda called, by the way. Wondering why her latest star writer is running around Comic-Con with an actor instead of promoting her damn book. She’s asking whether we should push the book tour until things calm down, and honestly, it might be the smart thing to do right now. ”
Shame and dread coiled inside her. Miranda had taken a bet on her—putting her name, her faith, and her resources on the line. Sending Emma here to take the next big step. To prove she could handle the spotlight.
And instead, she’d set off a full-blown media circus.
Darren’s brow furrowed. “Hey. Don’t put this on her.”
Leah turned to him. “Oh, trust me, I’m putting it on both of you.
You’re functioning adults. You were both aware of the risks.
And in case you’re wondering, the Netflix execs aren’t exactly thrilled about this mess either.
” She cocked her head. “Not that we’ve gotten any straight answers about where you actually stand on Lucen. ”
Emma flinched at her bluntness. Darren went still, eyes darkening. For a moment, he and Leah just stared each other down, the air between them turning glacial. Emma stood frozen between them. That steady quiet from after the kiss felt like a distant memory.
She cleared her throat. “Look, maybe we should just—”
“Max is looking for you, by the way,” Leah cut her off, eyes still locked on Darren. “Might wanna go find him.”
“Leah—” Emma protested.
Darren’s eyes flicked to Emma, and the flash of raw anger jolted her—there for a split second, then gone so fast she wondered if she’d imagined it.
“Right,” he said, jaw still tight. “I’ll find Max.”
“Good idea,” Leah sneered.
He reached for Emma’s hand without looking at her, squeezing it briefly before he turned and disappeared. She felt his absence like a physical thing, a carved-out, hollow space he left behind.
For a moment, she just stood there. “I didn’t think . . .” she started, still reeling from the shock of the photo. “We thought we were alone, Leah. I could have sworn we were.”
“Good thing you didn’t bet anything on that,” Leah said dryly. But then she shifted her weight, posture softening, if only slightly. “Your first kiss, huh?”
Emma nodded, looking down. The sympathy was worse than the chastising.
The memory of the kiss felt tainted. That fleeting moment of exhilaration, of true connection, precious and private—stolen. Laid bare for anyone to see. And the thought was maddening that there was no way to undo that, no way to take it back. Out of her hands, literally and figuratively.
“Jesus, Emma.” Leah sighed deeply. “I’m really sorry. I know how rare it is for you to let anyone close. But you can’t afford to be reckless like this.”
“It wasn’t planned, Leah,” Emma said, her voice coming out as a whisper. “But it wasn’t a mistake either. It just . . . happened.”
Leah ran a hand through her hair, ruffling the usually so perfect, glossy strands. “Look, I know exactly how this plays out. He walks away unscathed. You’re the one who’ll be seen as someone’s girlfriend. And Darren is . . .” She hesitated—which Leah never did.
Emma braced herself. “Darren is what?” she said, almost defiantly.
Leah looked at her. “I overheard Max on the phone earlier,” she finally said. “Emma, I hate to say this, but the panel thing—that wasn’t spontaneous. They planned it.”
Her insides dropped out, cold rushing in. “What do you mean, they planned it? It was last-minute.”
“Max was bragging. Said it was the smartest PR stunt he’s ever pulled,” Leah said reluctantly. “That Darren has Lucen in his pocket before the Netflix people even open their mouths. They must have come up with the idea as soon as I reached out to Max about the panel.”
Emma shook her head. “No. Darren’s not like that. For god’s sake, Leah, I can’t get him to talk about Lucen for five seconds. I don’t even think he wants it.”
Leah pursed her lips. “And then he shows up in an octopus T-shirt at your signing, sending everyone spiraling again? And now someone just happens to be ready with their camera in an empty service corridor the moment you share your first kiss? That’s a lot of coincidences, Emma.”
Something inside her balked. “So maybe Max came up with the panel thing. But that doesn’t mean Darren—”
“Darren,” Leah cut in, “has a lot to gain from all this attention. Lucen or not, this is the hottest his name’s been in years. Your story, your book, the two of you in front of a live audience—he hasn’t had this kind of fresh momentum in ages.”
“You don’t know him. It’s not like that.”
“And you’ve known him for what? Thirty-six hours?” Leah exhaled slowly. “Look, I know he’s charming as hell, but he does have a reputation. Cheating, among other things.”
Emma shook her head. “He already told me about that. You don’t know the whole story. It was a long time ago, and he’s really regretful.”
The pause that followed was enough for her to hear it—how weak, how defensive she sounded. A creeping cold tugged at her edges. The unthinkable, nauseating shame of realizing that maybe she’d been played after all.
“Right.” Leah’s voice was measured. “So it is true.” Exasperation crept into her expression. “I hate to say this, but he’s an actor, Emma. This isn’t just about protecting your career anymore. I don’t want to see you getting hurt. And definitely not in public.”
The words landed like a slap, knocking the breath out of her.
The fear she had carried since the start—that none of this was real. That obviously Darren freaking Cole couldn’t possibly see anything in her but another gushing fan, with just slightly more advanced fanfiction.
And she’d fallen for him, utterly and fully. All her practiced caution thrown to the wind. He’d slipped past her barriers, like they didn’t even exist.
She’d let him.
“You set it in motion,” she whispered.
“I didn’t think it would go this far.” Leah’s voice was almost pleading.
She took a step closer, hurt flashing across her face when Emma backed away.
“I loved seeing you let go a little for once. But this isn’t a fling at the office Christmas party, Em.
The whole damn world is watching. Currently thinking this is all just a cynical PR stunt. ”
“Well, that’s clearly what you think too,” Emma said, her voice rough. “Just that I was too stupid to know about it.”
Leah’s silence was answer enough.
Emma stared at her, hurt slicing through her, sharp as broken glass. “Maybe,” she hissed, bitterness poisoning the word, “you shouldn’t have shoved me straight into his arms, Leah. What the hell did you think was going to happen?”
Leah huffed, taken aback. Her mouth opened like she was about to retort, but shame and anger flooded Emma’s veins, and she couldn’t bear a second more without shattering.
So she turned and walked away—walls slamming back into place, her mind screaming she should never have lowered them at all.