Chapter two
1148 Words
Khloe's POV
I didn’t know heartbreak could sound like a thousand shutters clicking at once.
Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled out of the hotel, blinded by the onslaught of camera flashes and the chaotic chorus of voices calling my name.
“Khloe! How do you feel about Colin’s engagement?”
“Did you know about the restraining order?”
“Was there a fight? Did you threaten Camille?”
I didn’t answer.
I couldn’t.
I shoved past the crowd, shielding my face, my heels slipping on the pavement as I ran toward my car parked along the curb. My hands fumbled with the keys,shaking, slipping,until I finally managed to unlock it and dive in, slamming the door shut and locking it behind me.
The world outside was loud. Inside the car, it was suffocatingly silent.
I clutched the steering wheel, staring blankly at my reflection in the rearview mirror. Mascara streaked my cheeks. My lipstick was smudged. I looked nothing like the poised, confident model the world knew.
I looked like a woman utterly broken.
A sound escaped me,half sob, half scream,as I slammed my palms against the wheel.
Then I drove.
I barely knew where I was going. My mind was a blur, a fog of Colin’s voice, Camille’s smirk, the laughter, the restraining order… the birthday.
The streets stretched endlessly, but I hardly saw them. Twice I swerved too hard. Once, I nearly hit a light pole. My car screeched as I braked just in time, chest heaving, eyes wide in shock.
I pulled over.
I couldn’t breathe.
Fumbling, I reached for my phone. My fingers trembled as I dialed the only person who ever truly understood me.
“Mia,” I gasped the moment she picked up. “It’s me. I… I need you.”
She came within thirty minutes. Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t say I told you so. Just walked through my apartment door with a bottle of wine, a tub of cookie dough ice cream, and open arms.
I fell into them.
She held me as I cried until there were no tears left to shed.
We curled up on the couch, my head on her lap, the TV on low volume, playing some movie neither of us could focus on.
“I don’t get it,” I whispered at one point. “He said he loved me, Mia. He planned our future. We talked about kids. A house. And now… this?”
Mia stroked my hair, her green eyes filled with sadness. “Some men fall in love with your light, Khloe. But once they realize they can’t dim it, they walk away. Or worse… they try to destroy it.”
I sniffled, curling tighter into myself. “He humiliated me in front of the world. On my birthday.”
“And yet,” she said, voice firm, “you walked out with your head high. That’s the part they’ll never forget.”
The next morning, I decided I needed closure.
I needed to get my things.
Colin still had my clothes, my shoes, my makeup kits, even some of my personal journals from the days I practically lived in his mansion. I couldn’t move on with pieces of me scattered in his space.
Mia insisted on driving.
When we arrived at Colin’s place,once our place,two burly security guards stood at the gate like they were expecting a siege.
I stepped out, hoping to keep things civil.
“Hi,” I said quietly. “I’m just here to collect my stuff. I used to live here.”
The taller guard shook his head. “Orders from Mr. Mackey. You’re not allowed in.”
I blinked. “What? He knew I’d come. He could’ve at least left them by the gate.”
The other guard nodded toward the corner. “They’re there.”
I followed his gaze and my heart sank.
Three boxes. Tossed by the curb like trash. My designer heels jutting out the side. One of my framed photographs cracked. Clothes wrinkled and exposed.
He hadn’t even cared enough to seal the boxes properly.
I walked over in stunned silence, staring down at the remains of the life I thought we were building.
No note. No apology. No explanation.
I crouched and ran my fingers over a black gown I wore on our anniversary. I remembered how Colin told me I looked like magic in it.
Now it was balled up and shoved under a cracked makeup mirror.
Mia stood behind me, quiet.
“I feel pathetic,” I whispered.
“You’re not,” she said. “He is.”
That night, while I showered, trying to scrub the memory of him off my skin, Mia called me into the living room.
She stood with her hands behind her back, grinning like a child hiding candy.
“What now?” I muttered, drying my hair with a towel.
“Tada!” She revealed two flight tickets. “Spain. Tomorrow night.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You, me, sangria, beaches, and no men for at least a week,” she announced. “I figured if we were going to cry and plot revenge, we might as well do it somewhere with a view.”
I laughed for the first time in days. “Mia, you didn’t.”
“Oh, but I did. Girl’s trip. We need to get our emotions in check before you lose your career over this mess.”
I froze. “What do you mean, lose my career?”
Mia's smile faded. She grabbed her phone and walked toward me, her lips tight.
“I didn’t want to show you,” she said, handing it over. “But… you need to see.”
On the screen was a news headline.
“BREAKING: Khloe Hensley Allegedly Blacklisted by Modeling Agencies , Sources Say Mackey Heir Pulling Strings.”
My heart dropped.
I read the first few lines in disbelief.
“Sources confirm that multiple fashion houses and modeling agencies have paused or withdrawn pending contracts with Khloe Hensley after recent scandals. Industry insiders suggest Colin Mackey may be using his influence to protect his fiancée and retaliate against Hensley, whom he calls ‘unstable and unprofessional.’”
Unstable?
Unprofessional?
I clenched the phone in my hand. “He’s trying to erase me.”
“He’s scared,” Mia said. “That’s what people like Colin do. When they can’t control you, they try to ruin you.”
I dropped onto the couch, numb.
“They won’t even let me fight back.”
“They will,” she said softly. “But not here. You need distance. Perspective. And maybe… some revenge glow-up.”
I met her eyes.
Maybe she was right.
Maybe Spain wasn’t an escape,it was the start of something bigger.
I would heal.
I would rebuild.
And when I returned… they wouldn’t recognize me.
- Writer
