Michael ended the call and turned to me, his expression softening. "How are you holding up?"
I offered a faint smile, though my eyes betrayed my exhaustion. "I'm fine. Or as fine as I can be with the entire world convinced I'm some kind of corporate villain."
Michael moved to my side, resting a hand on my shoulder. "This isn't going to last. We'll clear your name, Isabella. I promise."
Before i could respond, the sound of the intercom buzzing cut through the air. Michael frowned and walked over to the panel, pressing the button.
"Mr. Michael, there's a journalist here to see you," the doorman's voice crackled. "He says he has urgent information."
Michael exchanged a wary glance with me. "What's his name?"
The doorman hesitated before replying, "James Alden."
