Page 121 of Forty, Flirty & Framed

I shake my head, struggling to follow."So what did you do?"

"I enlisted help, of course,” Fiona explains."Alana proved quite receptive to my suggestion that Callum's image needed softening."

"Alana?"I repeat stupidly."Callum's assistant Alana?"

"The very same.Bright girl.Excellent grasp of social media.She has a digital marketing degree, you know."Fiona looks smug."She created the original #KiltedCEO posts—tasteful, professional photos with just enough personality to make him seem human.Nothing inappropriate."

The pieces start falling into place."The original posts came from inside Abernathy Corp...from Alana."

"Under my guidance.It was working beautifully until someone else hijacked the campaign with that ridiculous 'Casanova' nonsense."

"Duncan MacTavish," I say, recalling what Viktoria had discovered."With Richard's help."

"Precisely."Fiona nods."They took our relatively innocent image campaign and twisted it into something tawdry.Though I must admit, the engagement metrics were impressive."

I laugh, the sound strangled from my dry throat."This is insane.You're telling me you and Alana planned the whole thing?"

"Not the whole thing.”She raises a palm.“Just the catalyst.What followed was beyond our control—though not entirely unwelcome."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," she says, leaning forward, "that while the explicit content was unfortunate, the crisis it created forced you and Callum to work closely together.To depend on each other.To see each other clearly in ways that might have taken months otherwise."

“Ah, so…you were matchmaking.”

"I prefer 'creating favorable conditions for natural connection,'" she replies primly."Matchmaking sounds so manipulative."

"Because it is!"I stand, indignation flaring."You orchestrated this entire situation?Do you have any idea what this has cost me?My reputation, my career?—"

"Your walls," she interjects calmly."It cost you your walls, Karina.The ones you've been hiding behind your entire life."

Her words stop me cold.

“You have no right to say that to me,” I say finally.

"Perhaps not.But it's accurate."She sips her coffee, watching me over the mug’s edge."You're not upset because I created a situation where you and Callum might connect.You're upset because it worked, and now you've lost something you weren't prepared to risk in the first place."

"You manipulated us both, Fiona!”

"Yes," she admits without a hint of remorse."And I'd do it again.My grandson has spent twenty years building a company while neglecting to build a life.You've spent just as long caring for everyone except yourself.Someone needed to intervene before you both calcified into permanent solitude."

I sink back into my chair, anger deflating into confusion."Why me?Why not set him up with someone less complicated?Someone without a fabricated resume and an ex-boyfriend brother?"

Fiona's expression softens slightly."Because he needs someone who understands what it means to rebuild after collapse.Someone who knows that resilience isn't just about endurance, but about transformation."

Before I can process this surprisingly insightful assessment, she brightens suddenly."Oh!I almost forgot to show you!"She pulls out her phone."I've become quite the social media personality myself."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Look!"She holds out her phone, displaying what appears to be an Instagram account with thousands of followers."I've been documenting my perspective on this whole situation.'My Grandson The Phenomenon,' I call it.The distinguished elderly set can't get enough."

I lean forward, stunned to see dozens of posts featuring Fiona offering commentary on the viral situation, complete with old photos of Callum in kilts at various family functions.

"You have fifty thousand followers," I say faintly.

"Fifty-two thousand as of this morning.”She beams proudly."My videos teaching traditional Scottish sayings have been particularly popular.Would you like to see?"

Without waiting for an answer, she plays a video where she stares directly into the camera, explaining with perfect deadpan delivery.”’