Chapter3: Shattered Illusions
592 Words
Selene never planned to care.
But Mr. Cole noticed everything: her hatred of fake sugar, the way exhaustion pulled at her eyes. He listened when she spoke. Sent concern without words.
It terrified her.
She told herself: He's kind because he can be. Nothing more.
Still, she smiled at her screen for no reason. Dangerous.
Austin felt it too.
Control had always been his armor—Blake family lessons in silence, cruelty masked as charm. But with her, walls cracked. He laughed. Expressed worry. Fell.
She didn't chase his power. She just... existed beside him.
That scared him most.
Thursday. Safe day.
She wore the red scarf he'd once complimented.
Today she'd tell him. Honestly. No drama.
Elevator dinged.
Atmosphere wrong. The receptionist avoided eye contact. Executives whispered:
"Engagement official. Diana Rowe."
"Her father wins. Blake's trapped."
Selene's steps faltered.
She pushed into his office anyway.
Austin by the window, phone call ending. Jaw tight.
He turned. Saw her face.
"Something wrong?"
"Are you engaged?" Voice soft. Breaking.
Silence roared.
"Yes."
"To Diana Rowe?"
"Yes."
"For business?"
He nodded. "Not what it looks like."
She laughed—sharp, pained. "It looks exactly like betrayal."
"Is she pregnant?"
His face paled. "No. Whatever she's saying—"
"Why didn't you tell me who you are?"
...He had no answer.
That was the answer.
Her throat closed. She turned before the burn behind her eyes could betray her. The door felt heavier than it should have as she pushed through it.
Outside, the hallway blurred, the glass walls reflecting her pale face at her like accusations. She didn't run. She walked. One foot. Then the other. Past the whispering executives who suddenly found their phones fascinating. Past the receptionist who wouldn't meet her eyes.
Down the elevator. Out of the lobby. Into the Sydney heat that did nothing to thaw the cold knot in her chest.
She quit the next morning with a two-line email. No explanation. No scene.
She packed both her suitcases later, and moved to the other side of the city, in a cramped apartment that smelled faintly of yesterday's takeout. The waitress's job at Aalia started that week—grease on her skin, the sizzle of oil, burnt bread under the heat lamps. Honest work. Exhausting work. Work that left no room for thinking about him.
Most nights, anyway.
When the exhaustion finally pinned her to the mattress, the past slipped in anyway. Seventeen years old, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead in a government office, pen scratching across papers that made "orphan" official. No inheritance. No justice. Just a stamp and a quiet "good luck."
She had built herself from ashes once.
She could do it again.
She had to.
Across town, Austin came apart in pieces no one else could see.
Bottles lined the edge of his desk instead of sleep. He had been drinking. Guilt sat heavier than the whiskey.
His grandmother, Victoria, found him like that one evening—shirt untucked, eyes hollow, staring at nothing. She set her teacup down with deliberate calm.
"You're losing her."
"She left." The words scraped out.
"You pushed her away." Victoria leaned closer, voice low and fierce. "That girl carries grief the way other women carry handbags—quiet, but sharp enough to cut. If you don't fight for her, Diana will destroy her."
Austin's head snapped up. "What do you know about Diana?"
"Enough to be afraid for you both."
For the first time in years, fear wasn't something he could control or ignore.
He stood.
Time to stop hiding.
- Writer
