Chapter 5 – Hostility
2122 Words
Evie didn't go straight home after the press conference.
She wandered outside the venue first, hoping the cool air would clear her head. But the moment she stepped into the open square, she realized the world outside wasn't any kinder than the chaos inside.
People were still talking about the incident.
Some watched the trending clip on their phones.
Some laughed.
Some shook their heads in disapproval.
Evie lowered her eyes and kept walking, pulling her jacket tighter around her as if it could shield her from their judgment. She didn't care about fame or reputation—she just didn't want to leave a mess behind. She never wanted to be the reason someone else suffered, even if that someone was Aiden Cross, a man who clearly wanted nothing to do with her.
She stopped at a quiet corner beside a vending machine.
Her heart sank when she remembered the image of his ruined vest. The fabric had been expensive—custom-designed, tailored, undeniably pricey.
She didn't know how much it cost…
but she knew enough to assume it was more than she could earn in a month.
Evie pressed her hand against her forehead.
I have to pay him back somehow. At least the vest… I can't just walk away.
The thought kept looping in her mind as she took the train home.
Her fingers tapped anxiously against her thigh the whole ride.
Evie reached her apartment late in the evening.
She dropped her bag on the small wooden table, then froze—because her mind replayed a specific moment from the press conference.
Aiden's eyes.
Cold, sharp, fixed on her as if she were a stain on his otherwise perfect day.
She exhaled slowly.
It wasn't anger that bothered her.
It was the possibility that he believed she did it intentionally.
She walked to the sink, splashed cool water on her face, and leaned on the counter.
Tomorrow… I'll find a way to return the money for that vest. Even if I have to work overtime for months.
That decision was the only thing keeping her sane.
But elsewhere in the city, at the upper floor of Starforge Management, Aiden Cross wasn't anywhere near calm.
He sat on a leather couch in a private lounge, the dim lights casting soft shadows across the room. The new suit he'd changed into was impeccably clean, yet his expression remained tight.
Lena stood across from him.
"Aiden, don't worry about the girl," she said. "Security has her name. She won't get close again."
Aiden didn't immediately respond.
He stared at a tablet on the table—paused on a screenshot of Evie's face.
Eyes wide.
Coffee splashing.
The perfect image of humiliation.
But the tabloids weren't showing humiliation.
They were showing malice.
And many insisted it was staged.
"She's a reporter," Lena added. "From a small company. Probably desperate."
Aiden's jaw tightened.
He didn't like people using him.
He didn't like being manipulated.
And he especially didn't like the possibility of someone using an "accident" to get attention.
"Find out everything about her," Aiden finally said, voice low.
Lena blinked. "You want a full check?"
"Yes."
"Aiden, she's not important. It was clumsy, that's all."
His eyes darkened.
"Then the report will prove that, won't it?"
Lena hesitated, then nodded before stepping out to make a call.
When the door clicked shut, the room grew silent again.
Aiden looked back at the screenshot—for reasons he couldn't explain.
There was nothing special about her.
Nothing remarkable.
Yet the moment replayed again and again in his head.
He didn't know whether it was irritation or something else.
But one thing he knew with certainty:
He didn't want her anywhere near him.
Back in her apartment, Evie finally sat on her bed, exhausted.
She pulled out her notebook to update her report, but halfway through a sentence, her mind drifted again.
She didn't know that while she was trying to figure out how to repay her debt—
Aiden had already formed a harsh opinion of her.
She didn't know that by tomorrow morning, his team would dig into her past.
She didn't know that misunderstanding had already grown roots in his mind.
All she knew was one simple, heavy truth:
She had made trouble for him.
And she wanted to fix it.
Even if he hated her for it.
Evie stood frozen in the hallway long after Lena disappeared around the corner. Her pulse hadn't settled, her palms still cold from fear and humiliation. She exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her face.
"New world, new identity, same amount of chaos… fantastic."
She finally forced herself to move. She headed toward the exit, keeping her eyes down to avoid the curious looks of passing staff members. Every step made the memory of the coffee incident replay in her mind like a cursed loop.
She didn't realize she was walking into yet another problem until she heard two security guards whispering near the entrance.
"Is she the one who threw coffee at Mr. Cross?"
"Yeah. Poor girl. If Lena's angry, she's done."
Evie turned away before they could notice her. Her throat tightened. She wasn't usually this fragile—her old life had been full of corruption, crime, and danger. But here… being publicly hated by millions over a coffee stain was a completely different kind of threat.
She stepped outside into the late-afternoon sun, letting the warm wind hit her face. The city buzzed around her, indifferent to her catastrophe.
She needed air. She needed space.
She needed—
"Evie Hart?"
A voice called her name.
Evie flinched and spun around. A man in a navy jacket stood there, holding a tablet and a polite but strained smile.
"Ms. Hart, right? Intern journalist?"
Evie nodded hesitantly. "Yes?"
"I have a message for you."
Her stomach dropped.
"From who?"
The man held out the tablet.
"Aiden Cross."
Evie almost stopped breathing.
A notification popped up on the screen, not from Aiden himself, but from Starforge's internal contact system:
"Aiden requests all footage or audio recordings taken prior to the press event. Submit immediately."
Below it:
MANDATORY COMPLIANCE.
Evie blinked. "…Why?"
The man shrugged. "He didn't explain."
Her thoughts scrambled.
She had only recorded a few background noises and random staff conversations. Nothing sensitive. Nothing valuable. Nothing worthy of Aiden Cross's attention.
So why—
A sudden realization hit her.
"He thinks I'm a spy," she whispered.
Of course he did. Rumors were spreading online like wildfire. And if Aiden already disliked her, it wouldn't take much to assume she had some hidden agenda.
Evie forced a thin smile.
"Fine. I'll submit it."
The man nodded and walked away.
Evie stared at her recorder. The tiny device felt heavier than a brick in her hand.
She hated misunderstandings.
She hated being accused of something she didn't do.
But she also understood the media. Truth rarely mattered—perception did.
And right now, the entire world perceived her as a threat to Aiden Cross.
She decided to walk toward a small park across from the Starforge building, needing a moment before facing any more humiliation. She sat on an empty bench and pulled out her phone.
Hundreds of notifications.
Hundreds of comments.
Strangers dissecting her expression, her posture, her clothes.
Accusing her of staging the incident.
Calling her trash.
Calling her a parasite.
She swallowed hard and turned the screen off.
This world was cruel in ways that stung differently.
She leaned back, closing her eyes.
"…I should just apologize to him properly. Return the cost of the suit. And then stay out of his path forever."
Yes. That was reasonable. Logical. Responsible.
But Aiden Cross was not a man who wanted reasonable.
Or apologies.
Or her.
Not after today.
Evie forced herself to stay until her breathing steadied. When she finally stood up, ready to go home and submit the audio files, her path was blocked.
Two men in black suits.
Not security guards.
Not paparazzi.
Starforge's internal investigation team.
One of them lifted a badge.
"Evie Hart," he said. "We need a moment of your time."
Evie's chest tightened. "…Is something wrong?"
"We're here for a brief inquiry. Orders from Mr. Cross."
The world tilted.
Aiden was investigating her?
Seriously?
"For what?" she asked carefully.
The man didn't blink.
"Suspected intentional disruption of today's press event."
Evie stared at him.
"That's not what happened."
"We'll determine that."
Her breath hitched. Panic sparked.
They weren't being aggressive, but the certainty in their tone—the assumption—hurt.
"Please cooperate," the second man added. "It won't take long."
Evie stepped back. "I didn't disrupt anything on purpose."
The first man tilted his head slightly.
"Then you have nothing to worry about."
She hated that line.
She'd heard it before in her old world—from people who wanted her to stay quiet while they buried the truth.
Evie clenched her fists.
"…Where are we going?"
"To the internal office. Mr. Cross wants clarification."
Mr. Cross.
Aiden.
Her entire spine went cold.
This wasn't just hostility anymore.
This was escalation.
And as the agents guided her back toward the Starforge building, Evie realized with sinking certainty:
Aiden Cross didn't just dislike her.
He wanted her gone.
Evie stepped outside the Starforge building just as the evening sun began to sink behind the Los Verano skyline. The air was cooler, but her chest still felt unbearably tight. She hugged her bag close, as if it could shield her from the world's eyes, from the rumors, from the endless stream of hateful comments still pouring into her phone.
She didn't dare check them again.
She walked until the building was several blocks behind her, its mirrored surface flickering like a distant, unreachable star. Only then did she stop beneath a quiet bus shelter.
Her hands trembled.
Not from fear—though she was afraid.
Not from humiliation—even though her entire day felt like a public execution.
But because she had the heavy, sinking feeling that something far bigger than a spilled coffee accident was happening around her.
She sank onto the bench, letting out a long breath.
"I can't let it end like this," she whispered.
Aiden's vest—the limited-edition suit she had ruined—flashed in her mind. She didn't know its price, but looking at it earlier, she had the distinct impression it cost more than several months of rent.
She wanted to repay it.
Somehow.
Even if he hated her.
Even if his manager wanted her erased from existence.
Even if the entire fandom was ready to burn her alive online.
Just thinking about marching up to Starforge to return the vest cost made her stomach twist, but still—
"…It's the right thing to do," she murmured.
Her breath fogged slightly in the cooling air.
But then—something strange happened.
A stabbing pain flickered behind her eyes.
Soft. Brief.
Like a camera flash too close to her face.
Evie blinked.
For a split second, she wasn't in Los Verano anymore.
She saw a dim apartment.
Old wallpaper.
A messy desk covered in case files.
A photo of her sister—Mia—smiling.
And on the floor…
Evie sucked in a sharp breath.
The image vanished before she could grasp it.
Her fingers curled around the edge of the bench.
"What… was that?"
Another memory?
No—another life?
Her life?
The world around her flickered faintly, as if reality itself glitched for a heartbeat.
Evie pressed a hand to her forehead.
"This isn't normal… Something is wrong with this world. Or with me."
Her phone vibrated again.
This time, it wasn't hate comments.
It was a news alert:
STARFORGE LAUNCH EVENT – UPDATE
Aiden Cross's team is investigating the identity of the culprit behind the coffee incident.
Culprit.
The word stabbed deeper than it should have.
Evie slowly stood, the streetlights humming softly overhead.
Fine.
Let them investigate.
She had nothing to hide.
But she couldn't shake the feeling that today's events were only the beginning of something much bigger.
She looked up at the city lights—bright, cold, indifferent.
"Tomorrow," she whispered, "I'll apologize properly. And I'll repay the suit. Somehow."
A bus slowed to a stop in front of her, the doors opening with a tired hiss.
Evie climbed aboard.
As the bus pulled away, she caught one last glimpse of the Starforge building in the distance—its top floors flickering faintly, almost like static on a broken screen.
Another glitch.
She swallowed.
Whatever this world was hiding…
It was starting to bleed through.
And everything—Aiden, the incident, the investigation—
felt like threads tying her deeper into a story she didn't understand.
- Writer
