"Mr. Evans, are you refusing to answer because we hit the mark? Were you born to do this?"
Seeing my panic, a cameraman shoved the lens in my face and began a live broadcast.
"Renowned software developer Jayce Evans has a promiscuous lifestyle, and twisted sexual orientation. Let this be a warning to the public—treasure your bodies. Don’t end up like Jayce, crippled from reckless indulgence."
I was nothing more than a stripped-down clown, unable even to curl up in humiliation.
The relentless camera flashes immortalized my most wretched, disgraceful moment.
"What the hell are you doing?! Who let you in here?!"
Wyatt burst in, his voice thunderous as he ordered them out.
Clara rushed forward, shrugging off her coat and wrapping it tightly around me. Tears streamed down her face as she scolded the guards.
"Where the hell are the bodyguards? Are they dead?! How could you let the press in? Fire them all—get them out of my sight!"
Their performance was flawless—so flawless that it made me sick.
I couldn't stop trembling.