The air crackled with unspoken accusations. Zhenting's words hung heavy, the question a sharp, glittering blade between them. Xia swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Protect Belle? Never. But protecting herself? That was a different story altogether. The truth, like the jasmine scent clinging to her clothes, was a dangerous secret she couldn’t afford to reveal.
A week passed in a blur of forced smiles and strategic silences. The atmosphere on the 88th floor was thick with unspoken tension, so palpable one could practically taste it. Zhenting, ever the observer, watched Xia with an intensity that bordered on obsession. She felt like a butterfly pinned beneath glass, every flutter of her wings scrutinized, analyzed, and dissected.
Then, the storm broke. Literally and figuratively. Tabloids erupted with grainy photos of Zhenting and Xia at the coastal villa, captions screaming of a forbidden affair, of a home-wrecking mistress preying on a pregnant woman's fiancé. 'Ice King Thaws for Mysterious Beauty!' one headline blared, next to a picture of Xia laughing, her face radiant in the sun. The articles painted her as a manipulative gold-digger, a shameless seductress determined to tear apart a happy couple.
Xia’s world imploded. The whispers started immediately, sharp and cruel, following her every move. She saw the judgment in the eyes of her coworkers, the veiled contempt in Madam Lin’s strained smile, and the outright glee in Belle’s smug expression. She was a pariah, branded with the scarlet letter of public shame. The weight of it threatened to crush her.
She avoided Zhenting, terrified of facing him, of seeing disappointment or anger in his eyes. He had given her his protection, his respect, and in return, she had brought him scandal. Her guilt was a tangible thing, heavy and suffocating. She knew she had to resign, to disappear, to save him from further embarrassment. But the thought of leaving him, of never seeing his face again, was a pain she couldn't quite bear.
That afternoon, as she prepared her resignation letter, Assistant Qin approached her desk, his face grim. 'Mr. Lu requests your presence in the conference room. Immediately.' Xia's heart pounded in her chest. This was it. The reckoning.
The conference room was packed. Every major news outlet in the city was represented, cameras flashing, reporters shouting questions over each other. Belle stood at the head of the table, her pregnant belly prominently displayed, her face a mask of righteous indignation. The air was thick with the cloying scent of her expensive perfume, a stark contrast to the faint, lingering jasmine clinging to Xia’s clothes.