POV: Jasmine
The interview was carefully staged—neutral setting, sympathetic journalist, questions vetted in advance.
I sat on a cream-colored couch in a rented studio space, Liam's hand warm in mine, bright lights turning everything sharp-edged and hyper-real. The journalist—Catherine Walsh, who'd built her career on humanizing public figures after scandal—smiled with practiced warmth that probably took years to perfect.
We'd chosen her specifically. She had a reputation for fair coverage, for letting subjects tell their own stories. That's what we needed. A chance to rewrite the headlines on our own terms.
"Whenever you're ready," she said, and the cameras started rolling.
"Tell us about your relationship." She leaned forward with what looked like genuine curiosity. "How did it start?"
I told the story—edited for public consumption but essentially true.
"I was hired at Cadence Records as an assistant. Liam was my boss." I kept my voice steady, measured. "I knew from the beginning that anything personal would be complicated, but attraction doesn't follow professional guidelines. It grew despite every reason it shouldn't."
"There was a scandal," Catherine prompted gently. "Photos leaked. Accusations of impropriety."
"A former employee named Adelyn orchestrated the leak." I squeezed Liam's hand, felt him squeeze back. "She wanted to destroy my reputation, and she nearly succeeded. But the scandal ultimately proved our commitment to each other. When everything fell apart publicly, Liam stood by me. He didn't hide. He didn't run."
"Neither did she," Liam added, that golden retriever sincerity making every word land like it meant something. "Jasmine could have walked away. Could have protected herself by distancing from the company, from me. Instead, she fought back. We fought back together."
Catherine nodded, making notes on her tablet. "And the pregnancy? There's been considerable speculation about the father's identity."
"Liam is the father." My voice came out clear, steady—no room for interpretation. "We have DNA confirmation. And we're building a family together—a traditional family, despite our unconventional beginning."
Traditional. The word felt strange in my mouth. Like wearing someone else's clothes. But this was the narrative we'd chosen. The story that would give our child the best chance at a normal life.
"What about the other brothers?" Catherine's eyes sharpened slightly—the first hint of the harder questions we'd prepared for. "There were rumors that all three of you were involved romantically."
Liam's grip tightened on my hand. We'd rehearsed this part. Had argued about the exact wording until three in the morning, pacing the living room like lawyers preparing closing arguments.
"My brothers are pursuing opportunities abroad," he said smoothly. "Asher's taking over our London branch. Finn's expanding our presence in Asia. Our family dynamic has evolved, as families do."
"So the rumors about a polyamorous relationship—"
"Were exaggerated by tabloids looking for a scandal." I kept my expression open, sincere, nothing to hide. "The truth is simpler. Two people fell in love during a difficult time. We made mistakes. We faced consequences. And now we're building something real."
Catherine studied us for a long moment. I wondered if she could see through the careful construction—if she recognized the gaps in our story, the people we weren't mentioning, the history we were rewriting in real time.
But she moved on, professional to the end.
The interview continued for another forty minutes. Questions about Adelyn's lawsuit and the satisfying verdict that had vindicated us publicly. About the future of Cadence Records under our leadership. About wedding plans that didn't exist yet and baby names we hadn't chosen.
By the end, we'd constructed a narrative of redemption and new beginnings. The scandalous assistant and the CEO who chose love over reputation. A story the public could root for because it followed all the familiar beats.
When the cameras stopped rolling, Catherine shook our hands with what seemed like genuine warmth.
"That was lovely," she said. "Honest. Relatable. People are going to respond well to this."
I smiled and thanked her and tried not to think about the people who wouldn't respond well. The people we hadn't warned. The people we'd written out of the story entirely.
The interview aired two days later.
I watched it with Liam in our living room, his arm around my shoulders, the glow of the television casting blue shadows across the walls. On screen, we looked polished and in love and completely believable. The editing was kind—they'd cut the moments where I'd stumbled over words, where Liam's smile had gone tight with the effort of lying by omission.
The response was surprisingly positive. Social media filled with comments about second chances and true love conquering scandal. The hashtag #BlackwoodRedemption trended for six hours. Entertainment news ran segments about our "fairy tale ending."
The public loved a good redemption story. My journey from scandal to stability fit the template perfectly.
"We did it," Liam said quietly, pulling me closer. "We actually did it."
"Yeah." I watched our faces on screen, frozen in a promotional image. Two people building something real. "We did."
My phone buzzed on the coffee table.
I reached for it absently, expecting Nora with a congratulatory text or Leo checking in on his pregnant sister. Instead, Finn's name glowed on the screen.
My stomach dropped.
Four words. No emoji. No follow-up. Just that flat statement sitting on my screen like a grenade with the pin already pulled.
I watched the interview.