Chapter Three: Crying to mummy

Courtney Savage sat comfortably behind her wide glass desk, one manicured hand resting on a leather folder, the other wrapped around a porcelain cup of tea. Sunlight streamed through the floor to ceiling windows of her office, casting a soft glow over the polished wood floors and the framed photographs lining the walls. Fashion campaigns, award ceremonies, moments of power and legacy frozen in time.

She looked nothing like someone approaching forty.

Courtney Savage was slender, elegant, and effortlessly beautiful. Her dark hair fell smoothly over her shoulders, her posture straight without stiffness. Everything about her spoke of control, of a woman who had built an empire and knew exactly how to hold it. Across from her stood her son.

Xander leaned casually against the edge of the desk, hands in his pockets, dressed far more simply than the room demanded. His presence softened the sharp edges of the space, grounding it in something warmer, more human.

Courtney smiled at him, eyes shining. "I still can't believe you're here."

Xander lifted a brow. "I told you I'd come eventually."

"Eventually is not today," she said lightly. "This is the first time you've stepped into LEGACY since I gave birth to you."

He shrugged. "You never needed me here."

"That's not true," Courtney replied, her voice gentle but firm. "I've always wanted you here. I just never pushed."

Xander's lips curved faintly. "I know."

She studied him for a moment, then laughed softly. "And now you decide to visit one week before my fortieth birthday."

He smiled properly this time. "I promised I'd be your driver and personal assistant for the week."

Courtney laughed outright. "My star footballer son reduced to carrying my bags?"

"You love it," he teased. "You know you do."

"I do," she admitted. "I really do."

There was a knock at the door before she could say more.

"Come in," Courtney called.

The door opened, and Watz, her long-time assistant, stepped inside holding a tablet. She was composed, efficient, and always alert.

"Mrs Savage," Watz said, "the photographer, Freya Woods, is outside for her interview."

Xander's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He looked away.

Courtney nodded thoughtfully. "Alright. Let her in... in thirty minutes."

Watz blinked once. "Thirty?"

"Yes," Courtney replied calmly. "That will be all."

"Okay," Watz said, already turning toward the door.

As soon as she left, Courtney reached for a slim folder on her desk. The name printed neatly across the top caught her attention.

FREYA WOODS

She opened it, scanning through the pages with growing interest. Her brows lifted slightly as she flipped through printed photographs and credentials.

"Hmm," she murmured.

Xander straightened a little.

Courtney glanced up at him. "By any chance," she said casually, "do you know a Freya Woods?"

Xander met her gaze evenly. "I do."

"Same university," she continued. "North Fall."

"Yes," he said.

"Do you know her personally?" Courtney asked.

"Not personally," Xander replied smoothly. "But she's well known. She's very good."

Courtney paused, watching him carefully. "Good how?"

"She's the best photographer and fashion stylist in the school," he said without hesitation. "Everyone knows her work."

Courtney hummed, thoughtful. "You sound confident."

"I am," Xander said simply. "You should give her a trial."

Courtney considered that, tapping her finger lightly against the desk. "Alright," she said at last. "I'll take note."

Xander nodded. "I'll see you later then. I want to take a look around the company."

Courtney smiled warmly. "Don't take too long."

He leaned down and pecked her cheek, the gesture natural and affectionate. At that exact moment, there was a soft knock.

"Come in," Courtney said.

The door opened, and Freya Woods stepped inside. The room seemed to shift, Xander turned. For a brief second, their eyes met. Then he looked away. He didn't greet or acknowledge her. He walked straight past her and out of the office without a word.

Freya stood frozen for a moment, then lifted her chin and walked in fully, taking a seat opposite Courtney without being asked. Courtney observed her quietly.

***

The interview did not go as Courtney had expected.

Freya sat with her legs crossed, posture relaxed to the point of arrogance. She answered questions quickly, sometimes too quickly, her confidence spilling into impatience. When Courtney asked about teamwork, Freya smirked. When asked about brand image, she interrupted.

"I don't follow rules that limit creativity," Freya said. "I set trends. I don't represent brands, I elevate them."

Courtney watched her steadily. "And how do you handle criticism?"

Freya shrugged. "If it's useful, I take it. If it's not, I ignore it."

There was no humility. No restraint. And beneath it all, nervousness cracked through her voice. She stumbled over words she normally owned, hands twitching in her lap, her breath uneven. By the time the interview ended, Courtney already knew her decision.

"I'm sorry," Courtney said, folding her hands. "LEGACY won't be able to hire you."

Freya's face fell instantly.

"You're talented," Courtney continued calmly, "but you're not fit to represent this company."

Tears filled Freya's eyes despite her effort to hold them back. She nodded once. "Thank you for your time."

She stood quickly and left. The door closed behind her.

Courtney exhaled slowly, then clicked her tongue in frustration. "Sorry, son," she muttered to the empty room. "I tried. Trust me."

***

Freya stumbled into the elevator, tears finally spilling freely down her cheeks. The doors slid open just as someone stepped inside.

Xander looked at her, startled. Her face was red, eyes glassy, shoulders tense. For a moment, something flickered across his expression, then it hardened. The doors closed.

Freya laughed bitterly. "This is your fault."

Xander said nothing.

"You told her horrible things about me," she snapped. "You ruined my interview."

"That's not true," he said quietly.

"Oh please," Freya scoffed. "You couldn't handle being blocked, so you went crying to mummy."

His jaw clenched.

"You're a spoilt, arrogant, ruthless brat," she continued, voice shaking with anger. "You think you can destroy people because you can't take rejection."

Xander stared straight ahead.

"I hope you're happy," she finished.

The elevator stopped. Xander stepped out without a word. The doors closed behind him.

Chapter Four: Damage control

Xander Savage was sleeping when his bedroom door slammed open.

"XANDER!"

He jerked awake, heart racing, eyes unfocused as sunlight streamed through the tall windows of his room. His phone vibrated violently on the bedside table, screen lighting up again and again.

"What..." he muttered, pushing himself upright.

Wendy stood at the foot of his bed, blue hair loose, face pale but sharp with anger. She was holding her phone out toward him like evidence.

"You're trending," she said. "And not for football."

Xander frowned, rubbing his face. "What are you talking about?"

"Freya Woods," Wendy snapped. "She posted your Snapchat chats."

The words hit him like cold water. He grabbed his phone, fingers clumsy as he unlocked it. Notifications flooded the screen. Mentions. Headlines. Screenshots. His name everywhere.

XANDER SAVAGE EXPOSED?

LEGACY CEO'S SON ACCUSED OF SABOTAGE!

PHOTOGRAPHER CLAIMS REJECTION COST HER CAREER

Xander's chest tightened as he scrolled. There they were. Messages he recognized. Voice notes. Screenshots of conversations from weeks ago. Some cropped. Some out of context. Some painfully real.

Freya's caption sat boldly at the top.

I rejected him. Then suddenly LEGACY wasn't hiring anymore. Funny how power works.

His hands shook.

"She leaked everything," Wendy continued, pacing. "Twitter's on fire. TikTok's worse. Half the internet thinks you ruined her career. The other half thinks she's clout chasing."

Xander stared at the screen, throat dry. "She said what?"

"That you're the CEO's son who couldn't take rejection," Wendy said flatly. "Congratulations."

He let the phone drop onto the bed.

"She blocked me," he said quietly. "I never even..."

"Doesn't matter," Wendy cut in. "This is bad. Mum and Dad are going to lose it."

As if summoned by the thought, footsteps echoed faintly from the corridor.

Wendy crossed her arms. "They're going to kill you for this scandal."

Xander leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes. He drew in a slow breath, then another, trying to steady himself.

"I didn't do anything wrong," he said, more to himself than to her.

Wendy scoffed. "Try telling the internet that."

***

Breakfast at the Savage household was usually quiet.

Greg Savage sat at the head of the table, jaw clenched, newspaper folded neatly but untouched beside his plate. Courtney sat opposite him, posture composed but eyes hard. Wendy picked angrily at her food. Xander sat straight-backed, hands folded, expression calm in the way only made people angrier.

"Do you understand," Greg said slowly, "the position you've put this family in?"

Xander nodded. "Yes, sir."

Greg's hand slammed against the table. "You are not just a footballer. You are our son. You carry our name."

"I know," Xander said quietly.

Courtney turned to him, disappointment sharper than anger in her gaze. "You told me you didn't know her personally."

Xander swallowed. "I should have been clearer. I'm sorry, Mum."

Greg scoffed. "Sorry won't fix the headlines."

Courtney leaned back slightly. "Why did you ask me to give her a trial if you knew her?"

Xander met her eyes. "Because she's talented. And because I didn't want what happened between us to affect her career."

Silence followed.

Wendy laughed harshly. "Look where that got you."

Courtney sighed, rubbing her temple. "I didn't hire her because she wasn't fit. She lacked etiquette, manners, humility, professionalism, and confidence."

"She was rude," Greg added. "Arrogant."

"And now she's trying to destroy us," Wendy said. "She's my enemy for life."

Xander looked down at his plate. "I'm sorry," he said again. "To all of you."

Courtney studied him for a long moment. "This is why we have PR," she said at last. "And they're handling it."

He nodded. "I understand."

Greg's voice softened only slightly. "This cannot happen again."

"It won't," Xander promised. But even as he said it, his chest felt tight.

***

Freya adjusted her camera lens, forcing a smile as her client laughed across the small café table.

"Let's take five," the woman said, standing. "Coffee break?"

"Sure," Freya replied automatically. She set the camera down and reached for her phone. The notification was already there.

OFFICIAL STATEMENT FROM XANDER SAVAGE

Her fingers trembled as she opened it. It read:

(The Snapchat conversations circulating online are false. I have never met or spoken to Freya Woods personally. Any claims suggesting otherwise are untrue.)

Her vision blurred. She scrolled. She glared at thousands of comments: 

"She's lying."

"Clout chaser."

"Trying to bring him down."

"Disgusting behaviour."

Her hands began to shake uncontrollably.

"He denied everything," she whispered. She locked her phone, swallowing hard, trying to breathe.

***

The art gallery at North Fall University was quiet, the way Freya liked it. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, dust motes floating in the air. She walked between shelves, searching for a magazine she needed for a project, her mind spinning.

"Freya."

She turned sharply.

Xander stood behind her, hoodie pulled low, hands raised slightly as if to calm her.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped.

"I need to talk to you," he said.

"You ruined my life," she shot back. "And now you want to talk?"

"I didn't tell my mum not to hire you," he said quickly. "I swear."

She laughed bitterly. "Then what about the press release?"

"My mother controls my PR," he replied. "I woke up to it too. It was damage control."

"So you just let them call me a liar?"

His jaw tightened. "You shouldn't have posted our private conversations."

Her eyes flashed. "You made me look crazy."

"And you made me look corrupt," he said. "We're both wrong."

Freya's chest heaved. She pulled out her phone. "Say that on live."

Xander's eyes widened. "Don't."

She tapped the screen. He moved fast, pulling his hoodie over his face and turning away as the live notification flashed.

"XANDER SAVAGE JUST STALKED ME," Freya said loudly into her phone, already moving. "Look at this."

He ran.

Freya dropped her bag, camera clattering to the floor as she chased him, breath burning, phone held high. Comments flooded the screen, hearts flying, messages scrolling too fast to read.

"He's running!" she shouted. "Why are you running if you're innocent?"

They turned corners, students staring, voices rising. Then he was gone. Freya stopped abruptly, chest heaving, spinning in place. She had lost him. The live video continued.

Chapter Five: One minute

The stadium at North Fall University vibrated with noise. Chants rolled through the stands like waves crashing against stone, drums beating in time with racing hearts. Floodlights cut through the evening sky, turning the pitch into a glowing stage. Every seat was filled. Every eye was fixed on the field.

The scoreboard blinked. 0 - 0

Five minutes left.

Sweat clung to Xander Savage's skin as he jogged back into position, chest rising steadily, mind sharp despite the pressure. The match had been brutal...tackles hard, passes tight, tempers high. The opposing team had marked him relentlessly, two defenders shadowing his every move.

He wiped his face with the back of his wrist and glanced at the clock.

Four minutes and thirty seconds.

From the sidelines, Wendy Savage bounced on the balls of her feet, pom-poms shaking as she shouted with the rest of the cheerleaders. Her blue hair caught the light, flashing bright as she cupped her hands around her mouth.

"COME ON, XANDER!"

The chant started again.

"SAVAGE! SAVAGE! SAVAGE!"

Across the pitch, Freya Woods lifted her camera, adjusting the lens without hesitation. The scandal had not stopped her from working. It couldn't. Rent still needed paying. Food still cost money. And Xander Savage, no matter how much the internet burned...still sold.

She followed him through the viewfinder, finger poised. The ball was passed wide. A defender slipped. Xander moved.

It happened fast, one clean touch and a sharp turn. The defenders were a step too slow. The crowd inhaled as one.

Xander struck.

The ball curved beautifully through the air, kissing the inside of the net just as the clock ticked down to one minute remaining.

For half a second, there was silence. Then the stadium exploded.

"GOALLLL!"

Wendy screamed, leaping into her squad, tears springing to her eyes as she jumped and laughed. The cheerleaders broke formation, spinning wildly, voices raw with joy.

"That's my brother!"

Teammates slammed into Xander, arms wrapping around him, shouting his name. He staggered under their weight, breathless, heart pounding but his face remained composed. Focused.

Freya caught the moment perfectly. Click!

Xander pulling free...another click.

His fists clenched at his sides...a faster click.

The crowd behind him rising to their feet. She lowered the camera slightly, already reviewing the shots when the noise moved from cheering to angry shouting. She looked up. Police officers were moving onto the pitch. At first, no one understood. Then someone pointed.

"They're going for her!"

Hands grabbed Freya's arms.

"What?" she gasped. "Wait...what are you doing?"

"Ma'am, you need to come with us."

Her camera slipped from her neck, swinging wildly as panic surged through her chest. "I haven't done anything!"

The crowd reacted instantly. Booing erupted from the stands, loud and unforgiving.

"LIAR!"

"LEAVE!"

"ATTENTION SEEKER!"

Freya's throat burned as tears spilled over. She struggled instinctively, but the officers were firm, already pulling her away from the sidelines.

"Please," she cried. "Please, I didn't..."

Wendy turned her face away, jaw tight, refusing to look.

Xander froze. He stared as Freya was dragged across the grass, her sobs swallowed by the noise. Something twisted in his chest. He spat onto the ground and looked away, forcing his eyes forward.

He took a step. He moved toward the tunnel but a hand grabbed his arm.

"Xander," his manager said urgently. "Don't."

"I need to..." he started.

"No," the man said firmly. "Cameras are everywhere. This is not the time."

Xander's fists clenched. He turned back.

Fans rushed the barriers, arms outstretched, shouting his name, asking for autographs. He forced a smile onto his face, moving mechanically, signing shirts and phones while Freya's cries echoed faintly in his head. 

***

The cell was cold. Freya sat on the narrow bench, knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around herself as tears fell freely. Her head throbbed. Her throat ached from crying. The smell of disinfectant burned her nose.

The door opened, footsteps approached. She lifted her head slowly.

Courtney Savage stood on the other side of the bars, immaculate as ever. Beside her was Watz, holding a tablet, and two sharply dressed lawyers.

Freya's heart sank.

The officer unlocked the cell and escorted her to the counter.

One of the lawyers cleared his throat. "Miss Woods, we're prepared to secure your release."

Hope flared painfully.

"However," he continued, "there are conditions."

Freya listened, numb.

"You will record a live video apologizing to Xander Savage, the Savage family, LEGACY, and the general public."

Her breath caught.

"You will state that the Snapchat screenshots circulating are false," the lawyer went on calmly. "That you were an obsessed fan seeking attention."

Her hands trembled.

"And you will sign an agreement never to speak publicly or privately about the Savage family or LEGACY again."

Silence stretched.

Freya shook her head slowly. "No."

Courtney's gaze sharpened. "Think carefully."

"I won't lie," Freya said hoarsely. "I won't destroy myself to protect you."

The lawyer sighed. "Then we have nothing more to discuss."

She was taken back to the cell. The door slammed shut.

Courtney turned to the officer. "Let me know when she's ready to sign."

She walked out without looking back.

***

The car was quiet. Xander drove, hands tight on the wheel. Courtney sat in the passenger seat, gaze forward. Watz sat in the back, scrolling through her tablet.

"Mum," Xander said finally. "Please."

Courtney didn't turn.

"She doesn't deserve this," he said. "Let her go."

"I won't," Courtney replied calmly.

He swallowed. "She's just a teenager."

Courtney's voice hardened. "So was I when I learned what it meant to protect a name."

He glanced at her. "Please."

She met his eyes briefly. "I won't let a small girl ruin the legacy my grandfather, Damon Savage, built."

Xander fell silent. The road stretched ahead.