Shayla
We're halfway through lunch in the conference room when Elysia arrives, clipboard in hand, phone pressed to her ear. My half-eaten sandwich sits abandoned beside me, but I've lost most of my appetite. I meet Chris's eyes—he looks as tired as I feel, yet there's a determined spark there, a silent pledge that we're in this together.
"Okay," Elysia says, then rattles off some final instructions into her phone before hanging up. "All set. The media tip is in place, and your security detail has the schedule."
I bite my lip, feeling a swirl of nerves and anticipation in my stomach. We've been planning this baby-shopping trip for part of our 'kill them with kindness' strategy to counter Caroline's malicious rumors. Elysia, ever the orchestrator, wants a small handful of paparazzi to catch us genuinely enjoying ourselves, showing that we're not bothered by the speculation swirling around us.
