Episode Six: Thirty Seconds
1528 Words
The car ride was unbearable.
Not because Damian spoke too much.
Because he barely spoke at all.
The silence stretched heavily between us as the city lights blurred past the windows. Rain had started sometime after we left the restaurant, water streaking across the glass in long silver lines.
I sat as far from him as possible.
Which, unfortunately, wasn’t very far.
The inside of the car smelled faintly like leather and his cologne—clean, expensive, annoyingly distracting.
I folded my arms tightly.
Damian sat beside me checking messages on his phone while the driver navigated through traffic.
Completely calm.
Like his family hadn’t just proposed the most insane arrangement in human history.
I finally snapped.
“Do billionaires usually offer marriage contracts to strangers, or am I just special?”
Without looking up, Damian replied, “You’re not a stranger.”
I frowned.
“That’s the part you disagree with?”
His mouth twitched slightly.
Actually twitched.
I stared at him suspiciously.
“Did you just almost smile?”
“No.”
“You did.”
“I didn’t.”
“That’s disturbing.”
This time he glanced at me.
“You’re surprisingly argumentative for someone trapped in a car with me.”
I let out a dry laugh.
“You publicly accused me of killing your sister.”
His expression immediately hardened again.
Right.
There it was.
The reminder neither of us could escape.
Rain tapped softly against the windows.
The tension shifted back into something heavier.
More dangerous.
Damian looked away first.
“The investigation isn’t finished.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“So you still think I did something wrong?”
His jaw tightened.
“I think my sister died unexpectedly, and I’m trying to understand why.”
That answer frustrated me because it sounded honest.
Not cruel.
Not arrogant.
Just… lost.
And somehow that was harder to fight.
I rubbed my temples tiredly.
“I replayed that night in my head a hundred times already.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Damian’s gaze returned to me slowly.
Every emotion suddenly felt too close to the surface.
“She came in with severe abdominal pain,” I continued quietly. “Her vitals crashed fast. The doctors responded immediately.”
I swallowed hard.
“There wasn’t enough time.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Damian asked softly, “Was she in pain?”
The question caught me completely off guard.
Not because of the words.
Because of the way he asked them.
Like he’d been carrying that question alone for days.
I thought back carefully.
To Isabelle’s terrified face.
To the chaos of the ER.
To alarms screaming.
“No,” I answered honestly. “Not at the end.”
Some of the tension left his shoulders.
Just slightly.
The driver suddenly cleared his throat.
“Sir.”
Damian looked forward immediately.
“We have a problem.”
Of course we did.
The car slowed near an intersection.
Ahead of us, several reporters stood outside another vehicle farther down the street.
Cameras.
Microphones.
Raincoats.
My stomach dropped.
“How did they find us already?”
“Paparazzi monitor police scanners, restaurants, social media,” Damian replied flatly. “Sometimes staff leaks information.”
That sounded exhausting.
The driver adjusted the mirror nervously.
“If they recognize the car, they’ll follow.”
I turned toward Damian sharply.
“This is insane.”
“This,” he said calmly, “is normal.”
Something about that sentence unexpectedly made me sad.
Because nobody should think this level of surveillance was normal.
The driver took another route quickly, but headlights soon appeared behind us.
Following.
My pulse jumped immediately.
“Oh my God, they’re actually chasing us.”
“Relax.”
“I’m being hunted by people with cameras.”
“They want photographs, not blood.”
“That’s comforting.”
Damian’s phone buzzed again.
He answered immediately.
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then his expression darkened.
“Who confirmed it?”
Another pause.
I watched the shift happen in real time.
Cold businessman replacing grieving brother again.
“Contain it before morning,” he said sharply before ending the call.
I stared at him.
“What now?”
For a second, he looked like he might avoid the question.
Then—
“The board knows about Vivian’s proposal.”
My stomach sank.
Already?
“They move fast,” I muttered.
“They’re scared.”
“Of what?”
Damian looked directly at me.
“The company’s stock already dropped three percent after the footage leaked.”
I blinked.
Three percent?
Just from one viral confrontation?
Billionaire problems were terrifying.
“The board thinks a public relationship changes the narrative,” he continued. “People are more interested in romance than scandal.”
I stared at him.
“You’re talking about manipulating the public.”
“Yes.”
At least he was honest.
Most rich men probably would’ve hidden it behind fancy words.
Strategy.
Brand recovery.
Public confidence.
Damian just called it what it was.
I looked out the window again.
Rain blurred the city into glowing colors.
“You know what the worst part is?”
“What?”
I laughed bitterly.
“A tiny part of me actually considered it.”
Silence.
Then Damian asked quietly, “Because of your mother?”
I hated that he noticed everything.
I didn’t answer.
Didn’t need to.
The silence told him enough.
His gaze lingered on me for a second too long before shifting away.
“You shouldn’t have to make decisions like this.”
The unexpected sincerity in his voice hit harder than it should have.
I frowned slightly.
“You’re part of the reason I have to.”
A shadow crossed his expression.
Fair.
The car finally slowed near my apartment building.
Relief flooded through me instantly.
Finally.
Home.
But the second I looked outside, my relief vanished.
Two reporters stood near the entrance.
Waiting.
My heart nearly stopped.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Cameras immediately lifted toward the car.
Flashes exploded against the windows.
“Oh my God.”
Questions started flying instantly even through the glass.
“Ms. Reyes!”
“Are you dating Damian Vale?”
“Did Vale Medical offer you compensation?”
“Were you fired because of malpractice?”
I shrank back automatically.
Panic surged hot through my chest.
“They found my apartment.”
Damian’s expression turned dangerously cold.
The driver locked the doors immediately.
“How did they get this address?” I whispered.
Nobody answered.
Because honestly?
That question scared all of us.
Another flash lit the car.
Then another.
And another.
I suddenly couldn’t breathe properly.
Mom.
Mateo.
What if reporters harassed them too?
What if neighbors started filming?
What if—
“Elena.”
Damian’s voice cut through the panic sharply.
I looked at him.
His expression had completely changed.
No arrogance.
No coldness.
Just focus.
“Look at me.”
I hated how naturally I obeyed.
“You’re not getting out here tonight,” he said firmly.
“What?”
“It’s not safe.”
“They’re reporters, not serial killers.”
“They already tracked your home address within hours.” His voice stayed calm. “Next comes drones, neighbors selling information, online harassment—”
My stomach twisted harder with every word.
Because he wasn’t exaggerating.
I could see it in his face.
He’d lived through this before.
“I can’t leave my family.”
“You can call them.”
“No.”
“Elena—”
“No.” My voice cracked this time. “I’m not abandoning my mother because your rich family broke the internet.”
The anger snapped something inside him too.
“My family didn’t leak the footage.”
“Well somebody did!”
“Do you think I wanted this?”
“You keep asking me that like it changes anything!”
The car filled with sharp breathing and flashing lights.
For a second, we just stared at each other.
Furious.
Exhausted.
Cornered.
Then suddenly, one reporter moved directly in front of the car.
Cameras raised.
Blocking the exit.
The driver cursed softly.
And Damian made a decision.
Fast.
The way powerful people probably learned to.
He pulled off his suit jacket, shoved it toward me, and opened the car door before I could react.
“What are you doing?”
“Buying you thirty seconds.”
Rain immediately poured inside the car as he stepped out.
The reporters exploded toward him instantly.
Questions flew from every direction.
“Mr. Vale!”
“Are you and Elena Reyes together?”
“Is the marriage rumor true?”
Marriage rumor?
My eyes widened in horror.
What marriage rumor?
Damian ignored every question.
But the reporters crowded tighter anyway, cameras flashing endlessly in the rain.
The distraction created an opening.
The driver turned toward me urgently.
“Miss, now.”
I looked once more through the rain-covered window.
At Damian standing alone beneath camera flashes.
Tall.
Cold.
Completely surrounded.
And somehow still trying to protect me.
That realization unsettled me more than anything else tonight.
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