Chapter 6
1061 Words
The car turns before the door fully shuts.
I brace a hand against the seat as the building disappears behind us, brick and glass sliding past the rear window like it already belongs to another day.
Neither of us speaks as the driver merges into traffic without hesitation, taking a longer route than necessary, avoiding the main avenue where cameras usually cluster this time of morning.
My breathing is still uneven. I hate that he can probably hear it.
I stare straight ahead. “You brought the press to my office.”
“No.”
“You benefit from the story.”
“I don’t.”
I finally turned to him. “You always say things like that as if certainty makes them true.”
“And you always assume intention without evidence.”
I let out a short breath, “You appeared, mentioned a child I never discussed with you, and within minutes reporters knew my name?”
“I mentioned nothing publicly.”
“That doesn’t mean you didn’t cause it.”
He watches me for a moment, measuring words before choosing them. “If I intended exposure, you would not have had time to leave through a back corridor.”
I didn't answer immediately.
Outside, pedestrians move normally, unaware they’re part of a morning I no longer control.
My phone vibrates again but I don't even give it a second glance.
“You should,” he says.
“I shouldn’t have to manage the damage you created.”
“It isn’t “damage” yet.”
I look down anyway. Three missed calls from two unknown numbers and one message from Eve.
They’re saying you’re connected personally, not professionally.
My jaw tightens.
I lock the phone and drop it beside me. “This ends now. Turn the car around.”
“No.”
I laugh once without humor. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”
“No,” he repeats calmly. “It wasn’t.”
I lean back, arms folded. “You don’t get to decide where I go.”
“You already left.”
“That was to stop escalation.”
“This is to finish it.”
Silence stretches between us again, heavier now.
“You don’t understand,” I say. “My business depends on discretion.”
“I understand exactly.”
“No,” I shake my head once. “You understand control. Not consequence.”
His gaze doesn’t shift. “You think I came unprepared for consequence?”
I don’t respond.
The car changes lanes smoothly, leaving the downtown grid for wider roads.
My stomach tightens slightly. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere private.”
“I didn’t agree to that.”
“You agreed when you got in.”
“I got in to leave reporters.”
“You got in because you needed distance.”
I look out the window. The skyline begins thinning behind us.
My phone vibrates again. This time, I open it.
A notification loads slowly, then fully.
Identity confirmed: event planner Arielle Cruz linked to Voss.
For a moment I don’t move.
He watches my reaction instead of the screen. “How bad.”
“They have my name.”
A pause.
“That was faster than expected,” he says quietly.
I turn sharply. “Expected?”
“Predicted.”
“That isn’t better.” I said, rolling my eyes.
He reaches into his jacket and places a folded document beside me.
I don’t touch it. “What is that?”
“Preliminary legal protection.”
“You assumed I’d need protection before speaking to me.”
“I assumed attention would follow me.”
I stare at the paper but still don’t pick it up.
“You planned this before today.”
“Yes.”
Anger rises, controlled but present. “So you decided my morning and day without me.”
“I decided on a location where interruption wouldn’t control the conversation.”
“You could have called.”
“You wouldn’t have answered.”
I don’t deny that.
Traffic slows briefly ahead, then clears.
“Say it again,” I say after a moment.
He doesn’t pretend to be confused. “Our son.”
I hold his gaze. “You don’t get to introduce a life-altering claim and then manage my schedule like logistics.”
“I’m managing exposure, not you.”
“They’re the same right now.”
The car turns through tall gates I don’t recognize.
I sit forward slightly. “Where are we?”
“A terminal.”
The road opens to a smaller building separate from the main airport lanes.
Private, obviously.
I stare at it. “No.”
“It’s already arranged.”
“I didn’t agree to leave the country.”
“You agreed to hear me.”
“Not there.”
He studies me carefully. “You won’t talk in the city.”
I look at the aircraft waiting beyond the glass.
My pulse shifts once.
“You were certain I’d come,” I say quietly.
“I was certain you wouldn’t stay.”
The car slows to a stop but neither of us reaches for the handle.
A knock comes from the driver’s side, not impatient… just measured but it still made me jerk.
The door opens before I even move, and cool air slips inside the car along with a woman’s voice.
“Good morning, Mr. Voss.”
I turn.
She isn't an airport staff member. She was on a tailored suit, tablet already in hand like she’s been waiting longer than we’ve been arguing.
Her eyes move to me briefly, assessing without curiosity.
“Everything is prepared,” she continues. “But there’s been a development.”
His expression changes slightly. “What kind?”
She hands him the tablet. I watch his face instead of the screen.
Stillness… Then tighter.
I reach for it before he lowers it.
A headline fills the display.
Child linked to Voss heir speculation emerges
Below it –
A blurred photo,
School gate,
Small backpack,
My son.
The air leaves my lungs all at once and I look up at him.
“You said you wanted to protect him.”
His jaw sets.
“I do.”
Another camera shutter clicks somewhere beyond the glass.
I don’t hesitate this time.
I reach for the door handle.
- Writer
