Intoxicated || An Eminem Fanfiction

chapter 63

Marshall's POV

Leila's phone hadn't stopped buzzing since dawn.

The constant vibration against the nightstand was like a ticking bomb, and I could feel the pressure building.

The media had finally gotten their claws into our elopement, and they weren't going to let go easily. I'd been through this rodeo more times than I could count, but Leila? She wasn't built for it. Not like I was.

She was already sitting up, scrolling through her phone, her body coiled tight like a spring about to snap. I could see her eyes darting over the headlines, the tension in her fingers as she gripped the phone a little too hard.

"Leila," I muttered, keeping my voice soft, still half-asleep. "What's goin' on?"

"They found out," she said, her tone sharp and clipped.

Her movements were jerky, frustrated, as she threw off the covers and shot out of bed. The way she started yanking clothes from the closet told me all I needed to know—she was spiraling, and fast.

I watched her for a moment, the anger radiating off her in waves.

She ripped a shirt from its hanger, tossing it onto the bed before grabbing her jeans.

Her hands were shaking, and I could tell she was about to snap.

I sat up, but kept my tone level, calm. "It's just the media," I said, my words slow and deliberate. "They'll move on in a few days."

"No, they won't," she snapped, spinning to face me, her eyes hard and blazing. "This isn't your world, Marshall. My business is built on staying hidden. I rely on people not knowing who the hell I am. And now, thanks to this—" she waved her phone in the air, "—that's gone. They've blown my entire life apart."

Her voice was shaking, her frustration bubbling over into something sharper. I could feel it—it was more than just her business falling apart. She was losing control, and that scared the hell out of her.

But me? I didn't mind it. I hated that damn job of hers, hated how she had to cozy up to these scumbags, make them think they had a chance with her just to catch them in the act. It was dangerous, yeah, but worse? It made me jealous as hell. The way she had to use her looks, her charm... I hated every part of it.

And now, maybe, that part of her life was over.

I stood up slowly, watching her pull on her jeans, her movements still frantic. "You're overreacting," I said, keeping my tone calm, controlled. "It's the media. They'll find someone else to talk about soon enough."

She froze, then turned on me, her face flushed with anger. "You think I'm overreacting?" she hissed, stepping closer, her fists clenched at her sides. "My entire business is built on being invisible, Marshall! I catch cheaters because no one sees me coming. Now my face is plastered all over the internet. How the hell am I supposed to do my job when everyone knows who I am?"

I stayed quiet for a moment, watching her closely. She was pacing now, her hands raking through her hair, pulling at it in frustration. The way she moved—like a cornered animal—told me everything.

She was unraveling, and she knew it.

But the truth? This was exactly what I needed.

If her business fell apart, I'd be the one thing holding her up.

She'd have to lean on me.

"Leila," I said softly, stepping toward her, "we both made that decision. We chose to get married. This wasn't just me."

Her eyes narrowed, and she stopped pacing, turning to face me with a hard look. "You're really gonna put this on me?" she snapped, her voice rising again. "You think I wanted this? To see everything I've worked for get torn to shreds?"

"I'm not saying that," I replied evenly, raising my hands slightly. "But let's not pretend you didn't want this too. We both did."

Her breath came out in a sharp burst, her fists still clenched. "You don't get it," she said, her voice trembling with frustration. "I built this. My business, my reputation—it's all falling apart. How am I supposed to fix this?"

I stepped in closer, keeping my voice low and steady, trying to anchor her before she spiraled any further. "Look, I've been in this game for a long time. I know how brutal it gets. But I also know it blows over. Always does."

She shook her head, pacing again, faster now. "You don't understand, Marshall," she said, her voice rising, more frantic now. "My clients trusted me because I could stay invisible. They trusted me to handle their dirt because I could get close without anyone knowing. And now? Now everyone knows who I am! My business is over."

Her voice cracked on the last word, and for a moment, I could see the fear break through her anger.

Fear of losing everything.

Fear of losing herself.

I stayed calm, watching her closely. "I get it more than you think," I said quietly. "I know what it's like to have your life exposed for the whole world to see. But trust me, this'll pass. You're stronger than this."

Her eyes flared, and she rounded on me, her face hardening. "I never wanted this!" she shouted, her voice sharp and raw. "I never wanted to be in your damn spotlight! Everything is falling apart because of you. Because we got married."

I felt a flicker of anger at her words, but I pushed it down, kept it buried. "I know you're pissed, but you can't put all this on me. We made that choice together. You wanted it too."

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "You think I wanted this? I wanted to be with you, not have my entire life blow up in my face."

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. "It'll blow over, Leila. You'll come out stronger. You always do."

She turned away from me, rubbing her temples, her body trembling with frustration. "I just... I need space. I can't think right now."

I nodded, stepping back. "Take all the time you need. I'm here."

She didn't respond, just stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. I stood there in the silence, the tension still hanging thick in the air.

I should've felt worse.

But the truth? I'd been waiting for this. And now, with her life unraveling, I knew I could make sure she never went back.