THE BILLIONAIRE'S PROBLEM

Stacy was one breath away from screaming when the third car parked across the street.

Unmarked. Tinted windows. Same make as the last two.

She let the curtain fall back into place, heart jackhammering. The air in the apartment was thick with silence and cheap detergent. Lily was asleep again on the couch, earbuds in, the blanket tucked around her like armor.

Stacy's stomach hadn't stopped twisting since the headline dropped.

BLIND ITEM: Kings of Controversy? Media Titan Linked to "Innocent Bystander" in Car Incident Outside Fashion Set

There were no names. But the photo was clearer now. Her hair. Her walk. Her tote bag.

She'd checked the blog's timestamp. It had gone up eleven minutes ago. Which meant the vultures outside were only the beginning.

She picked up the burner phone Tamsin had left and called the one number she didn't want to use.

He answered on the first ring.

"Kings."

Of course he didn't say hello. Of course he sounded like an executive in a war room.

"It's out," she said.

"I know."

"There are three cars outside my building."

"Two of them are mine."

She paused. "And the third?"

"That's why I'm downstairs."

Stacy blinked. "You're what?"

"I'm outside your door. Buzz me up."

She stared at the receiver like it might explode. Then crossed the room, pressed the intercom, and let him in.

Axel Kings didn't knock. He stepped inside like he'd always belonged there ... black coat, black shirt, no tie. Eyes scanning. Jaw tight. The storm in his body language had nothing to do with her furniture.

"Talk fast," she said, closing the door behind him. "I don't have time for another vague warning."

He tossed a folded page on the table. A printed screenshot of the blog post.

"You're trending. They're triangulating. Reddit's halfway to doxing you."

"I didn't sign up for this."

"No one signs up," he said. "They just get caught."

"Why are they even interested? I'm no one."

"That's the angle," Axel said. "'No one' collides with a billionaire. It writes itself. They smell sex or scandal, and the facts don't matter. You're already the story."

She ran a hand through her hair. "Then make it stop."

"I'm trying," he snapped. "But unless you plan on disappearing to Wyoming for six months, we need to shift the narrative."

She looked up. "Shift it how?"

He took a breath. Measured. Calculated.

"We leak something false. Reframe the story. Buy us time."

"No."

"It's not about truth," he said. "It's about timing. We give them something cleaner than the truth so they stop digging for dirt."

"You mean lie."

"I mean manage perception," he said evenly. "That's what survival looks like when people want to eat you alive."

She stepped closer, fire in her throat. "I'm not your brand. I'm not some toy for public damage control."

"You're not a toy at all," he said, eyes locking on hers. "And that's exactly why this is dangerous."

There was a charge in the air now. Like something electric had entered the room and shut the door behind it.

"You could have walked away after the hospital," she said, softer now. "But you didn't."

"I couldn't," he admitted.

The silence that followed wasn't comfortable. It was sharp, hot around the edges.

Stacy crossed her arms, trying to keep her voice level. "You're used to control, aren't you?"

"I don't like surprises."

"And I am one?"

Axel stepped forward, not quite close enough to touch. "You're the kind that doesn't leave."

Her pulse skipped. Her mind screamed at her to stay sharp ... to remember how this story ended for girls like her. But her body? Her body had already noticed the way his voice dropped half an octave when he got serious. The way he stood like gravity bent for him.

"Do you flirt with every woman you nearly run over?" she asked.

"I didn't flirt," he said, quiet now. "I took responsibility. Then I couldn't stop watching you."

That broke her for a second. She'd spent years watching him from afar ... magazine covers, shareholder meetings, brief glimpses behind velvet ropes. And now he was here, in her shitty apartment, saying things he shouldn't mean.

She swallowed hard. "If we fake something for the press, they'll watch us even closer."

"Good," he said. "Let them."

Her throat dried. "You'd risk your reputation for... what?"

He stepped closer. "Maybe I like a little risk."

She didn't move. Didn't breathe. His presence pressed in ... heat and magnetism, inches away. Her fingers twitched, either ready to shove him or pull him in.

"I'm not sure about this..," she said.

"You probably will," he replied.

Then the moment cracked ... a knock at the window. Not urgent. Just enough to remind them of the world outside.

Axel looked. "Photographer. Fire escape. Ballsy."

She moved to yank the curtain shut, but Axel caught her wrist. His hand was warm. Steady. Her breath hitched.

"You're not alone in this," he said, low. "Whether you want me or not."

And then he let go.

The knock came again, followed by the faint snap of a shutter.

"I'll handle it," he said.

She wanted to tell him to leave. That he was making everything worse.

But she also wanted him to stay.

Instead, she said nothing. Just watched him cross the room and disappear down the stairs like smoke slipping under a door.

And for the first time since the accident, she wasn't sure if she'd just regained control of her life... or lost it completely.