The morning didn't slow down.
If anything, it got worse.
By noon, TechWave was trending again. Not for innovation. Not for growth. For instability. Every blog, every platform, every analyst suddenly had something to say.
Shemmy sat on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through headlines that all sounded the same.
Crisis. Leadership doubt. Internal conflict.
She dropped the phone beside her.
"This is exactly what they want," she said.
Daevyd stood by the table, going through documents on his laptop. He didn't look up immediately.
"I know."
"They're shaping the story before we even speak."
"That's how they win."
She leaned forward, elbows on her knees.
"Then we don't let them finish it."
That made him pause.
He looked at her.
"You still want to go public."
"Yes."
"It's not just about speaking. It's about timing."
"Then we control the timing."
Silence.
He studied her for a moment.
Not doubting her.
Measuring.
Then he nodded once.
"Okay."
An hour later, the apartment didn't feel like a home anymore.
It felt like a war room.
Ruth arrived first, slightly out of breath, phone already in her hand.
"I hope you two are ready," she said. "Because the internet is eating you alive."
"We noticed," Shemmy replied.
Ruth dropped her bag and moved closer.
"I've been tracking everything. The narrative is shifting fast. People are starting to believe you've lost control."
She glanced at Daevyd.
"That's not entirely wrong."
Daevyd didn't react to that.
"What about support?" he asked.
Ruth shrugged.
"You still have people backing you. Quietly. But nobody wants to speak first."
Shemmy stood up.
"Then we give them something to stand behind."
Ruth raised a brow.
"Oh. So we're really doing this."
"Yes."
By mid-afternoon, the plan was already forming.
Not rushed.
Not messy.
Focused.
They weren't just going to respond.
They were going to shift the narrative.
Daevyd closed his laptop and stood up.
"We don't go online randomly," he said. "We control where and how this drops."
Shemmy nodded.
"One interview."
"Live," Ruth added immediately.
They both looked at her.
"Live?" Daevyd asked.
"Yes," Ruth said. "No edits. No cuts. No room for manipulation. If you want people to believe you, they need to see you in real time."
Shemmy considered it.
Then nodded.
"She's right."
Daevyd exhaled slowly.
"That's risky."
"So is silence," Shemmy replied.
That settled it.
Later that evening, the apartment finally grew quiet again.
Ruth had left to set things up.
The call had been scheduled.
Tomorrow.
Live.
No turning back.
Shemmy stood by the balcony, staring out at the city again. This time, her thoughts were sharper.
Clearer.
She felt him before she heard him.
Daevyd walked up behind her slowly.
For a moment, he didn't speak.
Then his arms wrapped around her from behind.
Firm.
Grounding.
She leaned back into him without hesitation.
"You're quiet," he said.
"I'm thinking."
"About tomorrow?"
"Yes."
A pause.
Then she added,
"And everything after."
His grip tightened slightly.
"We'll handle it."
She turned her head slightly, looking up at him.
"Together?"
"Always."
That word sat differently now.
Stronger.
Real.
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against her temple.
Not rushed.
Just there.
Steady.
She closed her eyes for a second.
Letting herself feel it.
Then she turned in his arms, facing him.
"You trust me?" she asked.
He didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
"Even if this goes wrong?"
He looked at her carefully.
Then reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
"It won't go wrong."
"That's not an answer."
He held her gaze.
"It doesn't change anything."
That was his answer.
She nodded slowly.
Then leaned in and kissed him.
Slow.
When they pulled apart, their foreheads rested together for a brief second.
No words.
Just understanding.
His phone buzzed.
He glanced at it.
Then frowned.
"What?"
He turned the screen slightly.
A message.
Unknown number.
Again.
Shemmy's chest tightened.
"What now?"
Daevyd read it once.
Then again.
"They know," he said quietly.
"Know what?"
"That we're going public."
Her stomach dropped.
"How?"
He shook his head.
"I don't know."
Silence.
Then another message came in.
Short.
Cold.
"Do it."
Shemmy frowned.
"That's not a threat."
"No."
Daevyd's eyes darkened slightly.
"It's worse."
She looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
He held her gaze.
"It means they're ready for it."
The room felt different again.
Heavier.
Like they had just walked into something deeper than expected.
Shemmy's fingers tightened slightly around his shirt.
"So we're walking into their plan."
"Yes."
A pause.
Then she said quietly,
"Then we change it."
He looked at her.
And for the first time that day
A small, dangerous smile appeared.
"Now you're thinking like me."