Victor lifted his gaze coolly, casting Rankin a sideways nce. His tone was casual, almost bored. "Are you trying to teach me how to do my job now?"


    The chill in Victor''s eyes sent a shiver crawling up Rankin''s spine, goosebumps prickling across his skin.


    He dropped his head, voice barely above a whisper. "Mr. Fitzgerald, I... that''s not what I meant. It''s just... this is a really big deal."


    Suddenly, Victor''s phone buzzed on the table, breaking the tension.


    He shot Rankin another icy look before picking up the phone.


    A message from Finley Pembroke—he''d sent a live interview clip.


    Victor tapped it open, and his brows immediately knit together in a deep frown.


    Without another word, he stood up, all patience from their earlier conversation gone. His orders came swift and cold.


    "In thirty minutes, I want a statement on The Fitzgerald Group''s website announcing my wedding date with Isadora. If not, the only announcement will be your resignation."


    He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and strode out, not sparing Rankin a second nce.


    Rankin stood frozen, staring helplessly at Victor''s retreating figure, his heart sinking.


    *


    Pulse News studio.


    A spotlight illuminated Terrell as he walked onstage with calm, measured steps, his presence steady and reassuring. He took a seat beside Isadora, settling in quietly.


    The crowd erupted-cheers and shrieks filling the auditorium, the energy nearly blowing the roof off.


    Terrell''s demeanor was warm and refined, his gaze gentle as he looked at Isadora, affection clear in his eyes.


    They were a picture-perfect pair-charming, attractive, almost like leads in a romantic TV drama.


    Isadora frowned, leaning over to whisper, "What are you doing here?"


    Terrell replied softly, "I was just worried about your interview today, so I came to watch. I didn''t expect the reporters to pull me onstage."


    Isadora could only sigh in exasperation.


    She didn''t even know who to me at this point.


    Today''s interview was supposed to clear up the rumors swirling about her and Terrell.


    But as she watched the show''s host, Nicol, steer the conversation, she realized the situation was only getting messier.


    Nicol returned to his seat, looking satisfied.


    They''d known Terrell was in the building-it was all part of the n to stir up buzz.


    Pulse


    thrived on ratings


    with little concern for


    verget


    whether their guests a straight


    wanted to set the record


    Nicol grinned at the cameras, pressing forward. "Now that Mr.


    Fawcett has joined us, why don''t we interview both of them? What do you think, everyone?"


    The audience erupted in apuse and cheers.


    In an instant, what was supposed to be a straightforward interview had be a couples'' talk show.


    Isadora rose from her seat. "Sorry, I''m not agreeing to—"


    But Nicol cut her off smoothly. "President Vaughan, don''t be in such a hurry! Look, we already have nine million people watching the livestream. Everyone''s dying to hear your story. You wouldn''t want to walk out mid-interview like you did at thest press conference, would you?"


    He had her cornered.


    If she left now, clearing her name would only get harder.


    Nicol pressed on, "Mr. Fawcett, when did you first fall for President Vaughan?"


    With that, he''d basically dered them a couple on live TV.


    Just then, the double doors at the far end of the stage swung open.


    The noise drew every eye in the room.


    A strikingly handsome man with an air of effortless authority strolled in, his steps casual butmanding.


    "That question... why don''t you ask me?"