"I want you to show only one or two pictures of Eve in the magazine. If possible zero pictures at all," Sullivan said once they were alone at a corner, his voice lowered but firm, leaving no room for debate.
Eddie took a breath, glancing at Sullivan's resolute expression. "I can't do that. She may be adopted, but she's still a Rosette. The readers know that, too. And I might get in trouble with Sinclair if I reduce Miss Eve's exposure in our magazine."
Sullivan's jaw tightened. "But that's the point, Eddie—she's adopted. She doesn't carry the Rosette bloodline. Do you really believe a family like ours would hand real influence to someone outside our lineage?"
Eddie pressed his lips together, sensing the unspoken reality behind Sullivan's words.
Everyone knew that, in the circles of the rich, bloodlines were everything. High society had its own harsh rules—rules that treated adopted heirs as temporary stand-ins, placeholders until a '
true'
heir took their place.
Even if Sinclair favored Eve, it didn't change the unspoken expectation that only those with family blood had lasting power.
"You'd be doing us all a great service, Eddie," Sullivan continued, his voice softer but his intent sharp. "Consider the impact on your magazine if it were seen giving precedence to an adopted child. People would question it—wonder if the standards had dropped, wonder why someone of uncertain origins was put on a pedestal."
The words gave Eddie pause. Much as he admired Eve and the spark she brought to every frame, Sullivan's claim had a certain weight.
There was a quiet truth in the way everyone would perceive it, however unfair, and the consequences could ripple beyond a single issue.
As Eddie continued to hesitate, Sullivan casually produced a check, a sly smile creeping onto his face. "I hope this will convince you. And don't worry about my father, I will take care of that."
Eddie's eyes widened as he accepted the check, his earlier reservations melting away. "Consider it done, Mr. Sullivan. Just leave it to me."
Sullivan nodded with satisfaction. "And one more thing—make sure to feature Sophie prominently in the pages of the magazine. She needs all the exposure she can get since she's our true heir."
Eddie felt a knot form in his stomach. "R-right . . ." The words came out strained as he pictured the uphill battle he faced.
Getting quality shots of Sophie would take divine intervention at this point. Maybe he should've asked Sullivan for an extra hundred thousand to edit her pictures into something even remotely presentable.
As Sullivan walked away, Eddie couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just stepped into a web of politics he hadn't signed up for.
The Rosettes had a way of twisting everything to fit their narrative, so he didn't want to mess with them.
Besides, Eve was merely adopted, and their magazine should focus more on the true Rosette and its rightful heiress.
=== 🤍 ===
[EVE]
Finally, the photo shoot was over, and now came the interview.
So far, so good. It seemed like Sullivan and Sophia had forgotten all about the dress incident, smiling warmly as they answered the staff's questions.
Maybe I'll be able to bring up the adoption after all . . . I
hope
.
As the staff of the magazine began their questioning, probing into the dynamics of the Rosette family, tensions escalated quickly when a question was brought up.
"Eve, as the adopted daughter, how do you feel about being in the shadow of the true Rosette heiress?"
A ripple of shock passed through the room; even the magazine staff looked taken aback. That question wasn't on the prepared list, I knew that for sure based on her expression.
I couldn't help but wonder who had managed to slip it in. My gaze instinctively moved to Sullivan, who merely watched with a faint, unbothered smirk.
"You don't have to answer that," Sinclair cut in, sending a cold glare toward the interviewer.
The staff member looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, clearly caught in the crossfire of family politics.
I felt for her—she was only doing her job, after all.
Knowing the cameras were still rolling, and didn't know whether which
part
they would write in the magazine, I decided to intervene, hoping to ease the tension.
"It's fine, Grandfather," I said calmly, then turned back to the interviewer with a reassuring smile. "I don't see it that way. I've always felt welcomed by the family."
The interviewer hesitated, clearly caught between obligation and discomfort, but pushed forward nonetheless. "Really? Isn't it hard to compete with someone who has the family name?"
"Not really," I replied steadily, but I caught her glance shifting to the clipboard in her hands, where it seemed more probing questions still waited.
Then she shrank back, her gaze dropping as a shiver ran through her.
A chill prickled down my spine. I looked behind and found Cole and Victor, their expressions hard as they stared down the interviewer.
When they noticed me glancing their way, they quickly looked off, pretending innocence.
But the message was clear: any questions crossing a line wouldn't be tolerated.
The interviewer, clearly rattled, redirected her focus to Sophie, whose face had lit up at the opportunity to be on the spotlight.
"You've been training to take over the family business," the interviewer began, relief evident in her voice. Probably because she wasn't interviewing me now with all those weird questions, until her voice wavered at the last sentence. "Do you feel any pressure . . . with Eve being in the picture?"
Sophie's smile faltered ever so slightly. "Not at all," she answered, the response feeling hollow.
The interviewer hesitated. She glanced at her notes, her pen tapping restlessly, then tried again. "Do you think you're ready for the responsibilities of being the Rosette heiress?"
Sophie's chin lifted. "Yes," she replied, but the brief response did little to conceal her nerves.
There was a flicker of doubt behind her eyes, a subtle hint of hesitation that made even the interviewer pause. Discover stories at empire
The interviewer's face fell slightly, disappointed by Sophie's one-line answers that lacked any real headline-worthy material.