Page 97 of Wisteria and Cloves
I nodded at this, understanding where she was coming from.
“I also wanted to make sure you know that privacy is precious, especially when you're navigating new relationships in the public eye. That's why I wanted to speak with you directly—to make sure we're handling this in a way that feels right for you." She pulled up what looked like a presentation on her screen. "I've put together some options for how we might approach the social media strategy. Nothing has to be decided today, and everything is entirely up to your comfort level."
Julian leaned forward slightly. "What are you thinking?"
"Well," Mara began, clicking to her first slide, "I'm thinking we start with something subtle but intentional. A series of artful, partial images that hint at the relationship without revealing too much of Lilianna."
The screen showed examples: a silhouette against a sunset, two hands intertwined, a woman seen from behind walking through a garden, a close-up of two coffee cups on a table.
"These types of images create intrigue while protecting privacy," Mara continued. "They tell a story without exposing you to scrutiny."
I studied the examples, finding them less intimidating than I'd feared. "These are... beautiful, actually. Not invasive at all."
"Exactly," Mara nodded. "We want to create a narrative on your terms, not let the paparazzi dictate it. The goal is to satisfy public curiosity just enough that they don't feel compelled to dig deeper."
Julian shifted, eyes on the photos displayed, “You also spoke of having Lilianna have her own social media that shows her life and interests as well?”
"I did," Mara confirmed, clicking to a new slide. "This would be entirely optional, of course. But having your own curated space can actually provide more protection than complete silence."
The slide showed examples of tastefully anonymous accounts—close-ups of books with thoughtful captions, artistic photos of gardens, music sheets, and food. No faces were revealed, just glimpses of a life being lived.
"Think of it as controlling your own narrative," Mara explained. "You'd share only what you're comfortable with—your interests, your daily moments of joy, perhaps quotes that inspire you. Nothing that would identify you to strangers, but enough to establish your presence on your own terms."
I studied the examples, intrigued by the possibility. "And I could use a pseudonym?"
"Absolutely," Mara nodded. "Many public figures' partners maintain semi-anonymous accounts. It gives you a voice without exposing your identity."
I considered this, the idea growing more appealing as I thought about it. "I've never had any kind of social media presence before. It seems... freeing, actually. To share things I genuinely care about."
"That's exactly the right attitude," Mara said warmly. "Authenticity resonates far more than manufactured perfection. Your genuine interests—books, music, gardens, whatever brings you joy—those make for compelling content."
Miles leaned forward, his green eyes thoughtful. "What kind of username were you thinking?"
"Something that reflects who you are without being obvious," Mara replied. "We could brainstorm some options. What matters most to you right now? What defines this new chapter of your life?"
I thought for a moment, my fingers tracing the rim of my teacup. "Growth, I suppose. Discovery. Learning who I really am. A little bravery, maybe.” My voice was softer than I intended, but it hung in the room like something sacred—honest and fragile.
Julian’s eyes flicked to mine, and for a moment, the whole room seemed to still. Something in his expression shifted, subtle but unmistakable. It wasn’t just pride—it was recognition. Like he saw me not just as the Omega I was becoming, but the woman I already was.
“That gives us a great place to start,” Mara said, nodding as her fingers flew across the keyboard. “I'll draft a list of name ideas—nothing overt, just concepts that reflect those words and the energy you're stepping into. I'll send it to Julian to share privately with you.”
I curled my fingers around the handle of my teacup, warmth sinking into my palms. The chamomile and honey was perfectly steeped—comforting, floral, soft on my tongue. Miles’s presence beside me was just as grounding as the tea, his arm resting alongthe back of the couch behind me, not quite touching, but close enough that I could feel his heat. A quiet reassurance.
Christopher, sprawled out on the floor at my feet like a contented cat in the sun, let out a thoughtful hum. “You know… it’s kind of poetic, the way all of this is unfolding. You’re not stepping into a spotlight—you’re growing a garden, slowly and with intention.”
I glanced down at him, eyebrows raised. “That was… surprisingly deep for someone who once referred to cereal as a ‘valid dinner option.’”
He grinned, unrepentant. “Multitudes, sweetheart.”
Nicolaus chuckled softly under his breath from the chair by the fireplace, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. He hadn't spoken much during the call, but his silence wasn’t disinterest. His sharp, perceptive gaze rarely left me, even now—cataloguing, calculating, caring in his own quiet, intense way.
Mara flipped to her final slide, her tone shifting into something softer, more intimate. “The final piece is pacing. We don’t rush any of this. We release content only when and if Lilianna feels safe and sure. Until then, radio silence is not just acceptable—it’spowerful.Let them wonder. Let your story unfold on your own terms.”
There was something seductive in that. Not in the romantic sense, but in thecontrolof it. For so long, my life had been directed by others—parents, tutors, even strangers. The idea of shaping my own narrative, even in tiny, anonymous ways, was thrilling.
When the call finally ended, Julian lingered by the tablet for a few beats, staring at the dark screen after Mara’s face disappeared. His fingers drummed absently against the tabletop, his brows furrowed as if working through a dozen thoughts at once.
The others began to shift—Christopher standing and stretching, Miles collecting the empty mugs with careful efficiency, Nicolaus returning to his tablet but not really reading.
