The silence stretched. The reporters were frozen, their microphones hovering in mid-air. The man in the wheelchair was an anomaly. A soldier. A cripple. A ghost.
Kiana found her voice first. It was shaky, but the malice was still there. She pointed a manicured finger at Baldwin. "Who the hell are you? Elianna, you're supposed to marry Julian! Now you're hooking up with a crippled soldier?"
The word "crippled" hung in the air. It was a calculated insult, meant to demean both Baldwin and Elianna. It was meant to paint her as a woman who preyed on the weak.
A ripple of unease went through the crowd. Some looked disgusted by Kiana's cruelty. Others looked intrigued by the drama.
Baldwin's expression didn't change. He simply turned his chair a fraction more, positioning himself directly between Kiana and Elianna. His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of a judge's gavel.
"First, watch your mouth, Ms. Solis. Publicly slandering a serving officer of the United States Army in front of this many witnesses is an exceptionally poor decision. One I suggest you reconsider."
Kiana's face paled. She hadn't expected him to fight back. She had expected him to be embarrassed, to slink away.
"Second," Baldwin continued, his tone even and measured, "you are mistaken. She doesn't have to marry anyone. Because she already has a fiancé."
He paused. The entire terminal seemed to hold its breath. The cameras zoomed in on his face, capturing every micro-expression.
"Me."
The word dropped like a bomb. The terminal erupted. The reporters shouted over each other, their voices a cacophony of disbelief.
"Delta Force?" a reporter near the front gasped, recognizing the unit patch on his uniform. "Holy shit."
Kiana looked like she had been slapped again. Harder. A Delta Force commander was a far cry from a "crippled soldier." He was elite. He was connected. He was dangerous.
Elianna stood behind him, her mind racing. She hadn't expected him to reveal his identity so publicly. It wasn't part of the plan. It was a massive risk.
Kiana scrambled for control. "Fiancé? That's ridiculous! She has a contract with the Cromwells! You're being played, soldier. She's a liar and a cheat!"
She was screaming now, her composure completely gone. "She's sleeping with both of you! She's a gold-digger!"
The reporters seized on the new narrative. The cameras swung back to Elianna, hungry for more dirt.
"Commander Armstrong, did you know about the Cromwell arrangement?"
"Ms. Baker, how many fiancés do you have?"
The questions were a barrage. Kiana's lips curled into a smug smile. She had turned the tide. She had made Elianna the villain again.
Baldwin ignored the shouting. He turned his chair slightly and looked up at Elianna. His blue eyes were steady, reassuring. He held out his hand. It was a large, calloused hand. A soldier's hand.
Elianna looked at it for a split second. It was a choice. Take his hand and step into the unknown, or stand alone and be torn apart.
She reached out and placed her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers, warm and strong. The grip was firm, grounding. It was a silent promise. A shield.
Baldwin squeezed her hand once, then turned back to face the mob. His jaw was set. His eyes were hard. He was no longer the calm observer. He was the man in charge.
