#This is how I imagine Nicholas' office. The media does not belong to me, the credit goes to the original owner.

The reddish-orange glow of the majestic sunrise seeps in through the curtains, waking me up. I wash my face and gather my hair into a ponytail. I place the newspaper gently on the kitchen counter and embark on the ritual of preparing a steaming cup of latte, savoring the aroma that fills the air.

With my coffee in hand, I make my way to the balcony, craving the embrace of the morning breeze. Leaning against the railing, I let my thoughts wander, reflecting upon the whirlwind of events that have unfolded in the past few days. The tranquil solitude of the early morning allows me to gather my thoughts.

As I stand lost in my contemplation, the familiar chime of my phone cuts through the tranquil morning, snapping me back to reality. Curiosity sparks within me as I glance at the caller ID, only to find Skylar's name flashing on the screen.

"Good morning, Skylar," I answer, trying to sound as awake as possible.

"MISS HAYLEY PRESTON, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME ABOUT NICHOLAS LORDE?" she exclaims, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and frustration.

"Whoa, calm down, Skylar. What's gotten into you?" I respond, taken aback by her outburst.

"Haven't you seen today's newspaper? Go check the front page," she urges, her tone still brimming with intensity.

Curiosity piqued, I hurry back inside and grab the newspaper from the counter. I quickly flip through the pages until I reach the front page, my eyes scanning the headlines. There it is, a captivating photo of Nicholas Lorde, his name splashed across the headline. My heart races as I read the accompanying article.

"Skylar, what is this?" I ask, my voice trembling with confusion. There, displayed prominently on the front page, are photographs capturing intimate moments between Nicholas and me: his firm grip on my hands and my gentle touch on his cheeks. My heart sinks as I realize that someone has been stalking us, invading our privacy without consent.

With a mix of anticipation and dread, I delve into the article, only to be confronted with a web of speculation and insinuations about our relationship. The words on the page accuse me of being a gold digger, attempting to tarnish my character and exploit our connection for personal gain. The sheer audacity of the article leaves me seething with anger and disbelief.

"This article is beyond deplorable," I whisper to myself, the weight of injustice heavy upon me.

"Are you still there, Hayley?" Sky's voice comes through the phone, filled with urgency.

"I'll have to call you back," I reply abruptly, not giving her a chance to respond, and end the call. My mind is focused on one thing—I have to find Nicholas.

I dial the number of the one person who can assist me in this situation. "Good morning, Ms. Black. I apologize for reaching out so early, but I desperately need to locate Nicholas."

Ms. Black's voice carries a sense of calm professionalism. "Good morning, Hayley. No need to apologize. I understand the gravity of the situation. Nicholas is currently at The Lorde Corporation today. He has a meeting at 9:00 A.M. Shall I provide you with the address?"

"Yes, please," I reply eagerly, my heart pounding with determination. "I need to speak with him immediately. It's urgent."

"Of course, Hayley. I will send you the address right away," Ms. Black assures me.

"Thank you, Ms. Black. I appreciate your assistance," I express my gratitude.

"Take care, dear," Ms. Black's voice resonates with genuine concern before she ends the call.

Feeling a mix of determination and anxiety, I swiftly take a refreshing shower and adorn myself in a knee-length navy blue dress with a gentle flare at the waist. A touch of lipstick adds a pop of color to my lips, and I opt to leave my hair cascading down in loose waves. With my purse in hand, I step out of my apartment.

Since I left my car at the hotel the previous day, I hail a taxi to my destination. As the cab weaves through the bustling city streets, I can't help but feel a surge of nervous energy. The rumors and scandalous article weigh heavily on my mind.

After a lengthy hour-long drive, I finally arrive at my destination. The sight of the towering building takes my breath away. Stretching towards the sky for at least 60 floors, its glass exterior exudes an air of sophistication and elegance.

Stepping out of the taxi, I find myself in front of the grand entrance. The revolving doors beckon me inside, and as I cross the threshold, I am greeted by the impressive lobby. The marble floors gleam under the soft lighting, and the sound of murmured conversations fills the air.

Making my way towards the reception desk, I approach the impeccably dressed receptionist. "Good morning. I'm here to meet Nicholas Lorde. Can you please guide me to his office?"

"Do you have an appointment with him?" she asks, her gaze sweeping up and down my appearance, a hint of skepticism in her eyes.

"No, but it's absolutely crucial that I see him right away," I reply with urgency.

Her response is curt and dismissive. "No appointment, no meeting," she declares, flicking a lock of her perfectly curled hair back.

Frustration wells up inside me, but I refuse to be deterred. I lean forward, maintaining eye contact, and speak with unwavering determination.

"Listen, I understand the protocol, but this is a matter of utmost importance. It's a personal matter that requires his immediate attention. Please, just make the call and inform him that Hayley Preston urgently needs to speak with him. I assure you, it won't take much of his time, but it's crucial."

"No..."

"Ms. Preston, what are you doing here?" I turn around to find Paul standing there, his eyebrows furrowed with surprise.

"I'm here to see Nicholas. I need to talk to him about something urgently," I explain, my voice laced with determination.

Paul's eyes narrow as he glances at the newspaper in my hand. "Is this about the newspaper?" he asks, his tone tinged with concern.

"Yes, it is. I need to clear things up, set the record straight," I reply, clutching the newspaper tighter.

Paul sighs, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Follow me," he says, leading me towards the elevators.

"But..." The receptionist looks at Paul, then at me.

"It's okay Stella, I'll take it from here," Paul orders.

As we ascend to the upper floors, my heart races with anticipation. I know that confronting Nicholas about the false accusations is necessary, and I hope that he will be willing to listen and help me salvage my reputation.

As we make our way through the bustling office, the ambient sounds of ringing phones and hushed conversations fill the air. Finally, we arrive at a pair of imposing double doors. Paul pauses, turning to face me with a reassuring smile.

We approach the elegant lady behind the desk, her black hair framing her face and her warm brown eyes sparkling with professionalism. She appears to be in her mid-30s, radiating an air of efficiency and grace. A smile graces her lips as she greets us.

"Good morning," she says, her voice confident and welcoming. "How may I assist you?"

Paul returns the smile, his demeanor friendly and composed. "Good morning Natalie. Could you please inform Mr. Lorde that Ms. Hayley Preston is here to see him?"

Natalie nods attentively. She glances at her watch, assessing the time. "Mr. Lorde is currently in a meeting, but he should be available in another 10 minutes. If you'd like, you can wait in the lounge area until then."

I appreciate her understanding. "Thank you, Natalie. We'll wait in the lounge."

She gestures towards a comfortable seating area adjacent to the lobby. The lounge is tastefully decorated with plush couches and stylish coffee tables, creating an atmosphere of relaxation amidst the sophisticated surroundings.

"Ms Preston, I have to go but surely make yourself comfortable." I nod and thank him.

I sit on one of the plush couches and wait patiently for Nicholas to finish his meeting. After what seems like an eternity, Nicholas walks out of what I assume to be the conference room. His gaze meets mine, and he pauses in his tracks, a flicker of recognition passing through his eyes. It is as if he has been anticipating my presence, his calm demeanor betraying no surprise at finding me waiting for him.

He swiftly addresses Natalie, instructing her to hold his calls for the next half an hour, a clear indication that he wants privacy. Then, he gestures for me to follow him. I rise from the sofa, my heart pounding in my chest, and follow him into his lavish cabin.

The opulence of his office takes my breath away. The walls are adorned with a blend of wood and cream stone, exuding an air of sophistication. A massive desk sits at the center of the room, commanding attention. A floor-to-ceiling window provides a breathtaking view of the cityscape, bathing the office in natural light. Plush couches beckon invitingly on the side, accompanied by a stylish coffee table. A well-stocked bar stands in the corner, boasting an array of expensive drinks. Bookshelves line the walls, overflowing with books, a testament to Nicholas's intellectual pursuits. The entire space is impeccably organized, mirroring the meticulousness that defines Nicholas himself.

As I enter the room, I can't help but notice Nicholas leaning against his desk, his posture composed yet enigmatic. He is waiting for me to speak, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity.

"Ummm, I am assuming that you saw today's newspaper," I begin tentatively, my eyes searching his face for a glimmer of understanding. He remains silent, encouraging me to continue.

"How do we fix this?" I ask, frustration lacing my words. "They have literally labeled me as a gold digger and thrown all sorts of scandalous accusations at me. This article has the potential to tarnish my reputation."

I watch Nicholas as he stands up straight, his confident demeanor. He takes a few purposeful steps toward me, his eyes focused and determined.

Calm down," he reassures me, his voice steady. "I have thought of a way to fix this."

Relief washes over me, and I lean slightly forward, eager to hear his plan. "What is your plan?" I ask, my voice filled with curiosity and a touch of anticipation.

His response, however, is not as forthcoming as I had hoped. "You don't need to worry about it," he asserts, his tone firm. "Just know that it will be handled."

I hold my ground, refusing to back down. "I am not leaving here until you tell me what you are planning," I assert, my voice resolute.

"Fine," he relents, his tone tinged with a hint of reluctance. "We are going to have a press conference."

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SGnGigi