CHAPTER 4
1247 Words
Three weeks.
That’s how long it had been since I walked away from the quiet life I once had. Three weeks since I tried to bury the ghost of the girl who hid behind a helmet every night. Three weeks since I forced myself into Hamilton High and the hell that came with it.
School had been strangely calm these days. Krystal, the self-proclaimed princess of Hamilton High, had finally backed off after the warning I gave her. I knew that her sudden silence was suspicious—unnatural even. Like the moment before a storm when the sky stops breathing. But honestly, I didn’t care. I was just grateful that for once, everyone was leaving me the hell alone.
The peace didn’t last.
A violent banging on my door jolted me awake.
I groaned, rolling deeper into the blanket.
“Who dares disturb my sleep this early? It’s the damn weekend,” I mumbled, half-asleep.
The banging continued—louder this time, impatient, almost furious.
I dragged myself out of bed, staggering like a drunk person, barely awake. I pulled open the door—
—and was shoved aside so hard I nearly hit the floor.
My eyes snapped open instantly.
“What the heck, bro?!” I snapped.
Brian didn’t answer. He stormed past me like a hurricane, grabbed the remote, and turned on the TV with a violence that made the buttons click painfully.
“What the hell is happening?” I asked, raising a brow at his stiff posture.
“Shut up and watch,” he said—cold, commanding.
I stared at him for a moment, then reluctantly turned to the screen…
And my heart dropped.
There he was.
“Dad…” I whispered.
The TV showed him surrounded by reporters, microphones shoved into his face like weapons.
“So, Mr. Caden,” the reporter began, “what do you have to say about your stocks that radically dropped overnight?”
Dad’s jaw tightened. Even through the screen I could see the sleeplessness, the exhaustion—the dark circles under his eyes, the defeat in his shoulders.
“For now,” he said, forcing composure, “I don’t have any comments. But I ask that everyone involved in my company remain calm. I will fix this as soon as I can.”
The reporter pressed on:
“If your stocks continue dropping like this for a month, your company could go bankrupt. Are you aware of that, Mr. Caden?”
Dad inhaled slowly. Too slowly.
“I’m well aware,” he replied stiffly. “But I already said—I will fix it as soon as possible.”
Then he walked away, refusing to answer anything more.
Brian turned off the TV.
The silence in the room was a living thing. Heavy. Suffocating.
He turned toward me—and the look on his face almost made me take a step back. His eyes were cold. Not angry—cold. Dead cold.
“This,” he said slowly, “is your fault.”
My breath hitched.
“What…?”
“If the company goes bankrupt, if we lose everything, if we become beggars on the street—it’ll be because of you.” His voice trembled with a resentment so deep it scarred. “I swear, Michella, I will make sure you spend the rest of your life paying for this.”
The words hit me like physical blows.
My throat tightened painfully.
“…Why? How is any of this my fault? What exactly did I do?”
Brian scoffed.
“You refused the marriage proposal.”
I froze.
“Because you decided to say no,” he continued, “you ruined everything all over again. You always think you’re the victim. You always think you’re the only one who has to sacrifice. Guess what? I’m sacrificing my happiness too. Brianna is sacrificing her happiness. Everyone sacrifices, Ella. Everyone except you.”
And just like that, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard it rattled the floor.
I stayed there.
On the ground.
In silence.
Minutes passed.
Hours passed.
I didn’t move.
I wasn’t crying. I wasn’t screaming. I wasn’t even breathing right.
I just sat there, mind blank, body numb… until something inside me snapped.
A strange laugh escaped my throat—sharp, broken, almost deranged.
It sounded wrong.
It felt wrong.
Everything felt surreal.
Like the world had tilted and I was the only one who noticed.
Who knew?
Who knew that the small peace I finally found would collapse this suddenly?
Who knew that the one day I stopped fighting, the world would come for me again?
---
That was how I found myself standing in front of the biggest hotel in the city—burning with rage, humiliation, and something darker.
I didn’t admire the interior. Didn’t look around. Didn’t breathe.
I marched straight to the front desk.
“Hi. I’m here to see your boss,” I said sharply. “He should be here celebrating after the little stunt he pulled yesterday.”
The receptionist blinked at me. Then she scanned me from head to toe, unimpressed.
“And who are you, young lady?”
“That’s not important,” I snapped. “Is that bastard here or not?”
Her eyes widened slightly—then narrowed.
“Please leave before I call security.”
I opened my mouth to argue—
But then the air shifted.
That cold aura. That suffocating familiarity.
Andrew Cuomo.
He was here.
I turned sharply—and there he was, walking past me like fate had guided him straight into my path.
“HEY! Andrew Cuomo!”
He stopped.
Turned.
Faced me.
A smirk tugged at his lips.
Of course.
Of course he would smirk.
I clenched my fists.
“Let’s get married,” I spat. “You wanted me, right? Fine. Then you can have me. Just stop messing with my family and marry me.”
His smirk deepened—slow, cruel, almost amused.
“What if I say it’s too late?”
The whole lobby froze.
Every waiter, clerk, and guest stared at us like a scene from a drama was unfolding live.
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“Well, that would be your loss, not mine. But if you change your mind, call my dad. You two can discuss the engagement date.”
Then I stormed out.
I didn’t look back.
---
Night fell by the time I reached the motorcycle arena near the Caden residence.
It was empty.
Dead quiet.
Perfect.
I needed air. I needed speed. I needed something—anything—to drown the chaos in my head.
I was about to leave when a familiar male voice broke the silence.
“Hey.”
I stiffened.
That voice…
I turned, helmet still on.
“Hi,” I said awkwardly.
“I like your voice,” he said, chuckling.
I forced a cough. “Yeah, I… caught a cold.”
“Right.” He smiled. “I’ll take off my helmet so you’re more comfortable. You can keep yours on if you want.”
He removed his helmet.
Jason.
My heart plummeted.
“What the hell is he doing here?” I thought, silent, grateful my helmet hid my face.
He looked at me—really looked at me—as if trying to figure me out.
And for the first time that day…
my heart did something strange.
Something it shouldn’t.
- Writer
