Chapter 9 Trinity
TRINITY
DISTRACTED.
The word loops in my head as I pace my tiny assigned bedroom, still feeling the phantom weight of Korgan's hands on my skin.
Twenty minutes ago, I was pressed against him in that pavilion, feeling like I'd discovered something rare and precious.
Now I'm just another inconvenience cluttering up his political calculations.
I catch my reflection above the dresser. Hair still mussed, lips still swollen, cheeks flushed with embarrassment instead of desire. Way to go, Trinity. Really nailed the whole "keep your heart guarded" thing.
My phone announces itself. Then again. And again.
Maya's name fills the screen, along with seventeen missed calls and a string of increasingly frantic texts.
TRINITY. CALL ME NOW.
The video is EVERYWHERE
Your bakery phone hasn't stopped ringing
WHERE ARE YOU???
My stomach drops. I dial her back with shaking fingers.
"Thank God." Maya's voice is breathless. "Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?"
"The clip. It's going viral. You and the orc in the rain."
My blood goes cold. "What clip?"
"Someone filmed you two in that little building. It's all over TikTok, Twitter, Instagram. The caption is..." She pauses. "Oh, honey."
"Maya. What does it say?"
"'When Small Town Girl Gets Jungle Fever.' But that's not the worst part."
I sink onto the bed. "There's worse?"
"The comments. Trinity, people are saying horrible things about you. And about him. About orcs in general." Her voice cracks. "Someone found the bakery's Yelp page. They're leaving one-star reviews calling you a 'race traitor' and an 'orc sympathizer.'"
The room spins. My bakery. My life's work. Everything I've built.
"How many reviews?"
"Hundreds. And growing."
I close my eyes, seeing years of sixteen-hour days and sleepless nights crumbling into pixels. "The loan officer."
"What?"
"If the bank sees this..." I stand up, pacing again. "Maya, if they think my reputation is compromised, they could call in the expansion loan. I could lose everything."
"Hey." Her voice gentles. "We'll figure this out. Maybe it'll blow over."
But I'm already pulling up social media on my phone, scrolling through the comments with growing horror.
Disgusting. What's wrong with these human women?
She's probably getting paid extra for this
Someone should check if she's under some kind of orc mind control
Burn the bakery down. Don't support orc lovers
Each comment pierces me. But it's the ones about Korgan that make my chest tight with rage.
Typical savage behavior. Can't control themselves
She's lucky he didn't eat her after
This is why we need species separation laws
"I have to go," I tell Maya.
"Trinity, don't do anything stupid—"
I hang up and storm out of my room, fury building with each step. The production assistants scatter when they see my face, which is probably smart of them.
I find Webb in the main interview room, looking smug as he reviews footage on a monitor.
"Enjoying the show?" I ask.
He looks up, all faux concern. "Trinity. I was hoping we could chat. This situation with the video—"
"You mean the situation where someone violated my privacy and turned an intimate moment into a viral hate-fest?"
"Now, now." He stands, smoothing his tie. "Nobody violated anything. You were in a public space, on our set. The cameras are always rolling."
"In a storage shed during a rainstorm?"
"Our insurance requires comprehensive coverage." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "For liability purposes."
Right. Liability. "And I suppose you had nothing to do with the caption that went with the leak?"
"I can't control how social media users interpret content."
The careful phrasing tells me everything. "But you can control which angles get leaked, and when, and to which accounts."
His expression doesn't change, but something flickers behind his eyes. Gotcha.
"The point is," he continues, "this represents an opportunity. A chance to address the, shall we say, concerns some viewers have about human-orc relationships."
"Concerns." I taste the word like spoiled milk. "Is that what we're calling racist vitriol now?"
"Trinity." His voice takes on a patronizing tone that makes my skin crawl. "You have to understand, some people aren't ready for this level of... integration. But we can help them adjust. We have a plan."
We. Like I'm part of his little scheme instead of the target of it.
"Let me guess. A redemption arc? Maybe a tearful confession about how I was confused and vulnerable? A public apology for my poor judgment?"
"Something like that, yes." He leans forward. "We could film it today. Get ahead of the narrative."
I gander at him for a long moment, letting the silence stretch until he shifts uncomfortably.
"Webb."
"Yes?"
"Go fuck yourself."
His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I turn to leave.
"Trinity, wait." His voice sharpens. "You need to think about your future. Your bakery. This story isn't going away, and neither are the trolls. But we can help you manage the damage."
I pause at the door. "Manage the damage."
"Exactly. But only if you're willing to work with us."
I look back at him, noting the way his fingers drum against the desk, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. He's nervous. Good.
"Here's what I think happened," I say slowly. "You needed drama for ratings. The sweet little romance wasn't enough. So you orchestrated this leak, probably through one of your social media partners, and timed it perfectly to maximize outrage."
"That's quite an accusation—"
"The problem is, you underestimated the backlash. Now you're worried about liability, about the show being seen as promoting hate. So you need a quick fix. A way to distance yourself from the monster you created."
His jaw tightens. "You're being dramatic."
"Am I? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you just turned me and Korgan into targets for every racist with internet access. And now you want us to clean up your mess."
I step closer, letting my voice drop. "But here's the thing, Webb. I'm not your puppet. And I won't let you or anyone else turn what happened between Korgan and me into something ugly."
"And how exactly do you plan to stop this?"
I smile, and from his expression, it must be as sharp as it feels. "By telling the truth. In my own words. On my own terms."
I leave him sputtering and head straight for the kitchen, where I know Korgan will be hiding. Sure enough, I find him standing at the industrial sink, aggressively washing dishes that are already clean.
"We need to talk."
He doesn't look up. "I heard about the video."
"Good. Then you know we have a problem."
"We have a problem?" His voice is carefully neutral. "I thought I was just a distraction."
Guilt twists in my stomach, but I push it aside. We can hash out hurt feelings later. Right now, we have bigger concerns.
"Korgan, look at me."
He turns, and the pain in his eyes nearly undoes me. But underneath it, I see something else. The same anger burning in my chest.
"They're calling you a savage," I say quietly. "They're saying I'm brainwashed or paid off. And they're threatening to destroy my bakery."
His hands clench into fists. "I'm sorry. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid."
"By calling me a distraction?"
"By letting myself forget that everything I do reflects on my people.
That every choice I make can be used as ammunition against orcs everywhere.
" He runs a hand through his hair. "Webb's article after my brother's death didn't just hurt me.
It set back human-orc relations by years. And now I've let it happen again."
I study his face, seeing past the stoic mask to the guilt eating him alive. "So what's your plan? Run away? Hide? Let them win?"
"My plan is to keep you from being collateral damage in my mistakes."
"Too late for that." I pull out my phone, showing him the screen full of notifications. "I'm already in this. The question is whether we're going to let them control the narrative, or if we're going to tell our own story."
He looks at the phone, his expression darkening as he scrolls through comments. "What did you have in mind?"
"A livestream. Tonight. You, me, and a kitchen full of baking supplies."
"Trinity—"
"Hear me out." I lean against the counter, warming to the idea. "People are saying you're some kind of monster who can't control himself around human women. They're saying I'm a naive little girl who doesn't know what she's getting into. So let's show them who we really are."
He's quiet for a long moment. "And who are we?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with everything we haven't said. Everything I'm not sure he wants to hear.
"We're two people who connected," I say finally. "Who found something real in the middle of all this manufactured drama. And we're not going to let anyone else define that for us."
"You want to livestream us baking."
"I want to livestream us being human. Well, human and orc." I grin. "Think you can handle working with modern appliances?"
For the first time since the confrontation with Webb, his mouth quirks upward. "I've mastered the dishwasher."
"Let's see how you do with a stand mixer."
Thirty minutes later, we're set up in the main kitchen with my phone propped against a flour canister and a makeshift ring light borrowed from the camera crew. I've raided the pantry for ingredients, settling on my grandmother's recipe for honey wheat bread—something comforting and unpretentious.
"Ready?" I ask.
Korgan nods, though he looks like he's preparing for battle rather than baking. Which, considering the comment section, might not be far off.
I hit the live button and watch the viewer count climb. Within minutes, we have over a thousand people watching.
"Hi everyone." I wave at the camera. "I'm Trinity Lewis, and this is Korgan. You might have seen us in a certain video that's been making the rounds today."