Chapter 37

Olivia's POV

The quiet hum of activity on set was a welcome distraction, but even that couldn't drown out the thoughts swirling in my head. I was flipping through my script in the corner of the room when I heard his voice.

"Olivia," Anthony called, his tone warm as he approached.

I looked up to see him standing there, his usual confident smile in place. "Hi, Anthony," I said, setting the script down on the table beside me.

"Thought I'd check in on you," he said, pulling up a chair and sitting across from me without waiting for an invitation. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," I replied automatically, forcing a polite smile. "Getting back into the swing of things."

He studied me for a moment, his gaze softening. "You don't have to pretend with me, you know. I can only imagine how hard this has been for you—with Elijah, the rumors, everything."

I stiffened slightly, my fingers tightening around the edge of the table. "I'm managing," I said, my voice firmer this time.

Anthony leaned forward, his expression earnest. "You don't have to manage alone, Liv. I meant what I said before—if you need anything, I'm here. Anytime."

"Thank you," I said, glancing away. His kindness was beginning to feel suffocating, like he was trying too hard to position himself as my savior.

"I mean it," he continued, his voice lowering as if to emphasize his sincerity. "You've been through so much lately, and I hate seeing you carry it all by yourself. You deserve better than that."

The words hung in the air, heavier than I expected. I looked back at him, trying to read his expression, but it was perfectly composed—sympathetic, supportive.

"I'm not alone," I said, more to convince myself than him. "I have people around me who care."

He nodded, but there was something in his eyes that made my chest tighten. "Of course you do," he said, his tone gentle. "But sometimes... it's hard to know who you can really trust, isn't it?"

His words struck a nerve, and I swallowed hard, suddenly uncomfortable.

Anthony leaned back slightly, giving me space but keeping his voice steady. "All I'm saying is, I'm here if you need someone to talk to. Someone who doesn't have an agenda. Just a friend."

A friend. The word felt hollow, but I forced myself to smile. "Thanks, Anthony. I'll keep that in mind."

He returned the smile, standing as if sensing the conversation had reached its limit. "Good. Don't forget it," he said, his tone lightening.

I watched him walk away, my thoughts spinning. His words echoed in my mind, tugging at threads I wasn't ready to pull. It's hard to know who you can really trust.

I exhaled slowly, shaking my head. Anthony's concern felt genuine, but there was something about his timing, his tone, that left me unsettled. Still, a part of me wondered if he was right.

The sound of a knock on the door broke my train of thought. I looked up to see Ezra standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. Behind him was Zoya, her hands stuffed in her pockets, her usual quiet demeanor betrayed by the tension in her shoulders.

"We need to talk," Ezra said, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation.

I nodded, setting my script aside as Zoya followed him inside, closing the door behind her.

"What's going on?" I asked, glancing between them.

Ezra didn't waste time getting to the point. "I've decided we're holding a press conference to address the rumors."

His words hit me like a brick. "You're what?"

He crossed his arms, his posture firm. "We can't keep ignoring this, Olivia. The rumors are out of control, and the longer we stay silent, the worse it gets. A press conference is the best way to regain control of the narrative."

I stood, the frustration bubbling to the surface. "Control the narrative? Ezra, all this is going to do is pour gasoline on the fire."

"We've ignored it long enough," he said evenly. "If we don't address it, people will keep speculating. This is about protecting the show, Olivia, and your reputation."

"My reputation?" I repeated, incredulous. "Do you really think putting me in front of a room full of reporters is going to help that? They'll twist everything I say, no matter how careful I am."

Zoya, who had been standing quietly near the door, finally spoke. "He's right about one thing, Olivia. The rumors aren't going away on their own."

I turned to her, surprised. "You're taking his side?"

Her eyes flicked to Ezra before meeting mine. "I'm not saying it's a good idea, but ignoring this hasn't worked either. Maybe... maybe this is the only way to get ahead of it."

I shook my head, my frustration growing. "And what exactly are we supposed to say? That it's all a lie? That none of it means anything? Do you think they'll believe that?"

Ezra stepped forward, his tone softening slightly. "You don't have to handle this alone, Olivia. Zoya and I will be there too. We'll control the room, redirect the questions if necessary. It'll be fine."

I stared at him, disbelief mingling with anger. "You make it sound so easy. Do you even realize what you're asking us to do?"

"I'm asking you to trust me," he said simply.

Zoya shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting between us. I could see the hesitation in her expression, the conflict she wasn't voicing.

"Fine," I said finally, my voice cold. "But if this blows up in our faces, that's on you, Ezra."

He nodded, unbothered by my tone. "Understood. Be ready in an hour."

He left without another word, leaving Zoya and me alone in the room.

Zoya's POV

I leaned against the wall, watching Olivia pace the room like a caged animal. Her frustration was palpable, and I couldn't blame her. The idea of a press conference felt like walking into a battlefield with no armor.

"This is insane," she muttered, running a hand through her hair.

"I know," I said quietly.

She stopped, turning to face me. "Then why didn't you say anything? You just stood there and let him railroad us into this."

I hesitated, unsure how to explain the knot of unease in my chest. "Because... he's not entirely wrong. The rumors aren't going away. And maybe if we face them head-on, we can put an end to this."

"Or we make it worse," she shot back, her voice rising.

I looked away, unable to meet her eyes. "Maybe. But what's the alternative, Olivia? We keep ignoring it, and the whispers just get louder? At least this way, we have a chance to control the damage."

She exhaled sharply, sinking onto the couch. "I just... I don't know who to trust anymore."

Her words hit me harder than I expected, and for a moment, I thought about telling her everything—about the shadow outside my window, the doubts swirling in my mind about Ezra and Anthony. But I stopped myself.

"You don't have to trust Ezra," I said instead, my voice soft but firm. "Just... trust me."

Her gaze met mine, and for a moment, the anger in her expression softened. She didn't say anything, but the look in her eyes said enough.

The room felt suffocating. Rows of reporters filled every corner, their cameras flashing and pens poised like weapons. The air buzzed with anticipation, a storm waiting to break.

I sat at the table beside Olivia , with Ezra  at the podium and Anthony  seated on her other side. Olivia looked composed, her back straight and her hands neatly folded on the table. But I could feel the tension radiating off her, a silent hum of restrained anxiety.

Ezra's voice carried over the room, smooth and confident. "Thank you all for being here today. Before we open the floor to questions, I want to address the recent rumors that have circulated regarding members of our cast. These rumors are baseless, unfounded, and frankly, disrespectful to the incredible work being done here."

He paused, letting the words settle over the crowd. "This team is focused on delivering a story that resonates with audiences, and I would urge everyone to keep the conversation where it belongs—on the art, not on personal lives."

The first question came almost immediately.

"Mr. Bennett," a reporter called from the front row, "you've stated the rumors are baseless, but can you confirm if any internal investigation was conducted to validate that claim?"

Ezra's smile didn't falter. "Our focus has been on ensuring a professional and supportive environment for the cast and crew. There's no evidence to support the rumors, and frankly, it's a waste of energy to give them further attention."

Another hand shot up, this time targeting Olivia. "Ms. Lopez," the reporter said, her voice sharp, "how do you respond to allegations that your relationship with Ms. El Deeb extends beyond the professional? And how has this impacted your marriage?"

I felt Olivia tense beside me, her fingers curling into her lap. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, just long enough for the silence to feel damning.

"As Ezra said," she began, her voice steady but icy, "the rumors are completely unfounded. Zoya is my colleague, and we maintain a professional relationship. That's all there is to it."

The reporter wasn't satisfied. "Given your husband's recent hospitalization, do you think these rumors have damaged your public image or created instability in your personal life?"

Olivia opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

The words were out of my mouth before I could think. "With all due respect," I said, my voice sharper than I intended, "Olivia's personal life is not up for public dissection. She's here as a professional, and her focus has been on delivering her best work despite the challenges she's faced. Maybe we should show her a little respect instead of chasing headlines."

The room fell silent, the collective weight of dozens of eyes turning toward me. My heart pounded in my chest, but I held my ground, my gaze steady.

"Ms. El Deeb," another reporter chimed in, clearly unfazed. "Are you denying the rumors outright?"

I clenched my fists under the table, forcing my voice to remain steady. "I am. These rumors are baseless and harmful. They distract from the work we're doing and the stories we're trying to tell. I would appreciate it if we could focus on that instead of perpetuating gossip."

Beside me, Olivia exhaled softly, and her hand brushed mine for the briefest of moments—a silent acknowledgment.

Ezra stepped in again, his tone commanding. "Let's move on to questions about the show, please. That's why we're here today."

Olivia's POV

I couldn't breathe. The weight of the cameras, the endless questions—it was too much. But then Zoya spoke, her voice cutting through the noise with a strength I didn't know she had.

I glanced at her, stunned by her words. She'd stepped in without hesitation, shielding me from the storm when I couldn't find the strength to do it myself.

"Thank you," I whispered, so quietly I wasn't sure she even heard me.

The rest of the conference blurred together. Ezra managed to steer the conversation back to the show, but the tension never fully dissipated. Even as the questions shifted to safer topics, the damage had already been done.

When it was finally over, I felt like I'd run a marathon. My legs felt weak as I stood, and I barely noticed the murmurs of the reporters as we left the room.

Zoya's POV

Backstage, the noise from the conference hall faded, leaving only the hum of fluorescent lights. Olivia stood a few feet away, speaking quietly with Ezra and Anthony. She looked exhausted, the mask she'd worn for the press cracking at the edges.

I stayed back, unsure if I should approach her. Part of me wanted to tell her I meant every word I said out there. That I'd do it again, no matter the cost.

But another part of me hesitated. Because no matter how much I wanted to protect her, I couldn't ignore the feeling that this was far from over.

The sharp ding of my phone pulled me from sleep, the glare of the screen cutting through the darkness of my room. I squinted at the notification and felt my stomach twist.

"Olivia Lopez Struggles to Defend Her Marriage Amid Scandal—Zoya El Deeb Rushes to Her Rescue. But Why?"

My chest tightened as I read the words over and over, each one sinking deeper like a stone. It wasn't just the headline. The accompanying photo was from the press conference—me, leaning forward, my expression fierce as I defended Olivia. Olivia sitting beside me, her face frozen in a mix of exhaustion and unease.

I swiped to the article, scanning the paragraphs that twisted everything we said.

'When asked about her relationship with Ms. El Deeb, Lopez appeared hesitant, struggling to provide a convincing denial. Her lack of clarity only fueled speculation, leaving many wondering if the rumors are more than just whispers.'

'El Deeb's passionate defense of Lopez only added fuel to the fire. Her strong reaction raises the question: what exactly is she trying to protect?'

The phone shook in my hands, and I tossed it onto the bed, unable to read more. My pulse was racing, my mind spinning with what this would mean—not just for me, but for Olivia.

Olivia's POV

I stared at the laptop screen, the headline glaring back at me. Anthony had texted me the link with no explanation, and I hadn't stopped reading it since.

"Lopez's silence about her marriage and El Deeb's dramatic outburst paint a troubling picture. Is there more to their relationship than they're letting on? And how will her husband, Elijah Lopez, cope with the mounting pressure as he recovers from his recent hospitalization?"

I slammed the laptop shut, my hands trembling. My stomach churned with a mix of anger and guilt.

A knock at the door broke through my spiraling thoughts. "Come in," I called, my voice sharper than I intended.

The door creaked open, and Zoya stepped inside. She looked as tired as I felt, her hair pulled back into a messy bun and dark circles shadowing her eyes.

"You saw it?" she asked, her voice low.

I nodded, my jaw tightening. "Of course, I saw it. Everyone has by now."

Zoya hesitated, hovering near the door like she wasn't sure if she should come closer. "I'm sorry," she said finally. "I didn't mean to make things worse."

"It's not your fault," I said, though the tension in my voice betrayed me. "You were trying to help. But now they're twisting everything, and it's just... it's a disaster."

Zoya stepped further into the room, her brows furrowed. "They would've twisted your words no matter what you said, Olivia. At least this way, they know someone's in your corner."

Her words stung more than I wanted to admit. Because deep down, I didn't feel like anyone was in my corner—not really.

I crossed my arms, turning away. "It doesn't matter. They're just going to keep talking, and Elijah..." My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard, trying to push the thought away.

"Elijah will understand," Zoya said softly.

I whipped around, my frustration spilling over. "You don't know that, Zoya. You don't know what this is doing to him—or to me!"

She flinched, but her gaze didn't waver. "You're right. I don't know. But I know you don't have to go through it alone."

Her words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning I couldn't unpack. I wanted to believe her, but trusting Zoya felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. One wrong step, and I'd lose everything.

I exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over my face. "This has to stop," I said, my voice quieter now. "The headlines, the questions, all of it. It's too much."

Zoya nodded, her expression softening. "Then let's figure it out. Together."

I didn't answer, but as I looked at her—standing there, unshaken despite everything