CHAPTER 216: CHAPTER 216: BETWEEN LOVE AND REPUTATION

~Zayn’s POV~

We managed to get out of the media crush and, instead of going back to the hotel suite, I instructed the driver to take us straight home. The quiet darkness of the mansion felt like the only safe place left.

Zayn said nothing at first as we walked through the hall. I waited until we were alone in the bedroom before I finally asked him, "Are you okay, babe?"

He forced a tiny, tired smile. "I’m fine, Evric."

I pressed him further, knowing better than to accept the easy answer. "Be honest with me."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I’m fine," he repeated, but his voice was softer. "I was just shocked by the sudden cameras. It felt aggressive, like we were being hunted."

That night, the planned celebration was shelved. The earlier drama had drained us both of all energy. Zayn simply told me he wanted to sleep, and after a quick, quiet shower, he was in bed. The success felt hollow without the shared joy.

The next morning, I woke up early. I avoided the blinds and the news channels. I sat on the edge of the bed, working on my laptop, deliberately putting distance between myself and the inevitable frenzy online. I did not check social media. I did not read the news. I clung to the technical success of the launch, ignoring the human cost.

It wasn’t until Karl called that I was forced to face it.

"Evric, you need to see this," he said, his tone urgent.

I opened a major news site. Karl was right; the story wasn’t the project—it was the CEO’s secret partner.

The article featured a large grid of photographs. There was no direct shot of Zayn’s face, but the angles were revealing. The reporters hadn’t caught a clean shot of him entering the car because Evans’s broad back had effectively shielded Zayn as he opened the door and slid into the back seat.

However, the camera barrage had captured me moments later. One key image showed my face clearly framed in the rear window as I entered the car, confirming that I was definitely sharing the vehicle with an unidentified man. The absence of a clear face was actually more damning, allowing the public to fill in the blank with the gay rumors.

The caption was aggressive: "The CEO’s Secret Man Revealed After Refusing to Deny Gay Rumors."

The report detailed my sharp deflection to the reporters and then meticulously pieced together my social media.

They had combed through my IG posts, finding every picture I had ever posted of Zayn—the ones I thought were safe: a shot of his hand holding Miso, the back of his neck while he was cooking, his side profile in soft light. They were all now blown up and used as "evidence."

The comments were a chaotic reflection of the night before, only amplified:

• "He refused to answer because he is gay. If he weren’t, he would have denied it instantly. The evidence is now clear."

• "What a hypocrite! His father’s entire platform is built on tradition, and this is the son he produces? Shameful."

• But others fought back: "Who cares? This is irrelevant noise. The man just launched a billion-dollar project. I’m supporting the CEO, not his choice of partner."

• And the supporters of the drama: "That man’s neck is gorgeous. I bet they’re hot together. The CEO is officially off the market!"

The launch was a success, but the battle for our private lives had just begun.

My hand instantly shot out and moved my laptop away from the edge of the bed. I can’t let Zayn see this. I glanced over; he stirred slightly but didn’t wake. I picked up my phone to dismiss Karl’s call, but the conversation wasn’t over.

"Evric," Karl’s voice was tight with urgency. "You need to check the major social media platforms. There’s a new picture that just dropped."

I opened the platform, dreading what I would find. The picture had gone viral instantly. It was a photo I remembered vividly, it was taken on Zayn’s birthday, during a boat trip. The only people with us were his friends.

It showed our backs as we stood on the boat during the sunset cruise. The lighting was soft, but the intimacy was undeniable, I was leaning into Zayn, my head buried in his neck, my lips pressed in a playful kiss against his skin.

The person who released the picture hadn’t revealed Zayn’s face. The romantic, private mood of the photo, combined with the earlier rumors, was more than enough to confirm the speculation. The caption simply dared the public to deny that the CEO was gay now.

I slowly cover the laptop slipping it to my lap. My mind raced. I didn’t know what was going on, and I certainly didn’t know how this picture was getting out. The boat trip was supposed to be completely private, shared only with Zayn’s friends. This wasn’t a random photographer; this was someone close, someone with access to our most personal moments.

Before I could even process who might have leaked the photo, my phone pinged with a notification from an encrypted messaging app I rarely used. The sender was anonymous.

The message was chillingly casual:

"Evric. It looks like it’s time to play with you."

My blood ran cold. I immediately knew this was connected to the photo.

The next message followed instantly:

"Don’t bother looking for the source of the picture. This is just the beginning. I have a load of pictures of you and your little man together. Private moments, little secrets... and it would be really fun if I dropped them all right now."

I gripped the phone tightly, my knuckles white.

"But I’m feeling generous. I won’t reveal his face yet. Why spoil the fun? I’m quite enjoying the drama you’re causing on the internet. Consider this your warning. I’ll be in touch."

It was blackmail. This wasn’t just malicious gossip; it was a targeted, calculated threat from someone who had been inside our circle. I looked down at Zayn, who was still asleep, oblivious to the terrifying new enemy we had just acquired.

Before I could sink further into panic, I acted. I gently slid off the bed, careful not to wake Zayn. I gathered my phone and my laptop, my briefcase still abandoned from last night’s dash, and quietly headed downstairs.

The dining room became my temporary command center. I made a series of rapid, cold, and calculated calls.

Evric made a quick call. "That picture that got released this morning, I need you to look into it right away. Find out where it came from and who’s behind it."

Not long after, as I finished my final call, Zayn came downstairs. He paused when he saw me, a polite smile on his face.

"Morning, Babe," he said softly. "And congratulations again. Truly a huge success last night."

I managed a return smile, but I was focused on his eyes. They were tired, and his usual morning optimism was missing. He was trying to act normal, but I could tell he had seen the news, or at least some of the viral pictures.

We had breakfast mostly in silence. Afterward, Zayn pushed his chair back.

"I should get going," he said. "I’m heading to the restaurant today. Need to catch up after the last few days." He stood up to go prepare for his day.

"Okay," I said, standing up with him. I took his hand and gently pulled him toward the stairs. "Let’s go up together so you can get dressed. I’ll drop you off myself."

The offer was meant to be reassuring, a simple act of protection. But Zayn’s reaction was immediate and sharp.

"No!" he rejected the offer quickly, his tone unusually firm. "You absolutely don’t have to drop me off. I’ll get there fine."

The sudden, sharp rejection shocked me. I stared at him, the easy confidence I’d built up over the morning calls fracturing. The look on my face must have mirrored my inner turmoil: Why the immediate refusal? He was clearly afraid of being seen with me.