I do as he says, inhaling slowly, trying to steady my pulse. My eyes locked on the intensity of his gaze, on the calm, the certainty he carries—letting his voice anchor me back to something that almost feels like peace. When my breathing evens out, he releases me and says, “Come on, I’ll take you.”
I shake my head. “My car’s just a block away, and home is less than thirty minutes from here. You don’t have to.”
“I insist. You’re not in a state to drive right now. Leave the keys with me. I’ll make sure your car is delivered safely later.” He looks at me with that same intensity. “Please, let me take you home.”
I nod, unable to argue, too drained to resist the sincerity in his voice or the way his concern feels genuine.
The elevator ride and the drive home pass in a blur. We don’t speak, but my mind is loud, crowded with a million thoughts all fighting to be heard.
Has Colin already seen it? Is he doing something to make it disappear? Can I stop the kids from seeing it before it’s too late?
Who are these sources who so easily handed over this story to a gossip site, but never thought to warn me? Not once did they stop to consider the damage this would cause to a family already breaking apart, splintering piece by piece?
Alexander parks in front of my house, just as the GPS instructed. For a moment, I hesitate to get out of the car. Thissmall pocket of silence feels like safety, a place where nothing can reach me.
I draw in a slow breath and unbuckle my seat belt.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asks, his voice softer.
I glance at him and manage a faint, but sincere smile. “I will. I have to be.”
I reach for the door handle, but he stops me with a light touch on my hand. Then he gets out, walks around the car, and opens my door for me.
I step out and thank him as he closes the door behind me.
“You have my number,” he says, his voice naturally deep and commanding, now subdued. Gentle in a way that makes it impossible not to feel the reassurance in it. “Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.” He pauses, his gaze steady. “Anything, Cecily. Even if it’s just to talk. For no reason at all.”
I thank him again, for helping me with the paparazzi and for everything else he’s done.
I walk toward the house, his eyes on me the whole way. No car door. No engine. No sound of him leaving.
At the top of the steps, I look back. He hasn't moved.
I smile, small and grateful, then turn the key and step inside.
But the moment the door closes behind me and the living room comes into view, I wish I could go back. Back into Alexander’s car. Back to the silence. Back to anywhere but here.
Because right there, in front of me, on the couch, my daughter is sobbing in her brother’s arms, and Ethan hastears streaming down his face.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mark approaching, but I can’t move. Frozen. Staring at the scene that feels like one of my worst nightmares come to life.
“They already know,” he murmurs.
Chapter 11
Nothing that was only ours
Colin
I look at the papers scattered across my desk and I just can’t focus. The last few days have been a version of hell carved on earth just for me.
That damn article. Sensationalist. Attention-hungry. Pure garbage. It’s set everything on fire, and the flames refuse to die.
The phone never stops ringing. My inbox has turned into a graveyard of accusations, questions, and thinly veiled threats. Investors breathing down my neck. Shareholders and board members demanding “damage control.” Reporters circling, waiting for the next drop of blood.
They’re all on top of me now. Every single one of them. As if I’m some criminal who got caught, not the man who built this place from nothing. As if they’ve all conveniently forgotten exactly who I am.
I’m one of the founders. The president. The man who poured every ounce of himself into this company.
