Love me after the lie

Chapter 8

Xander

Present Day – 11:47 PM

She said one more interview.

It sounded professional. Clean. Final.

But the way she looked at me when she said “Just with the ones who matter”—God, it gutted me.

Selene always did know how to cut deep with the truth.

I sat alone in my office now, city lights flickering through the glass like ghosts I couldn’t shake. My tie was undone. Jacket tossed across the couch. And on the screen in front of me, a private archive was loading.

Old files.

Old footage.

The night she walked out, I deleted everything I could. I couldn’t stand to relive it—her face, her heartbreak, my silence.

But I hadn’t deleted everything.

I found the folder buried under layers of encrypted backup—only one clip, timestamped four years ago. The night everything fell apart.

The night Veronica showed up.

I hesitated before pressing play.

Because if Selene saw it, she’d know the truth. All of it.

But she’d also see how long I hesitated.

How I didn’t run after her.

How I froze.

The footage flickered to life. Me, in a white shirt. Veronica, standing too close. I remembered what she said. How she wanted to “talk.” How she leaned in, whispering things I should’ve shut down faster.

I hadn’t touched her.

But I also hadn’t stopped the implication fast enough. And Selene walked in at the worst moment. A moment that looked exactly like betrayal.

She’d see it now, raw and unedited.

She’d see me turn to the door too late.

See her face crumple in shock.

See how I stood there, like a man who deserved to be left.

I hit pause. Chest tight.

Then I copied the file onto a USB.

If I wanted her to believe me—I had to stop protecting my shame.

Selene

Present Day – 2:04 AM

I should have been asleep.

But instead, I sat on the floor of Lana’s living room, legs curled under me, a cup of untouched tea cooling in my hands. The lights were off, except for the soft amber glow from the kitchen. I couldn’t stand the full dark. Not tonight.

Everything felt… too loud.

My thoughts. My heartbeat. That damn memory of his voice—“I didn’t touch her.”

The problem wasn’t just the past.

It was the way the present was starting to feel like before. Before the betrayal. Before the silence. Before I had to learn how to live without the person I thought would never lie to me.

I didn’t want to trust him again.

But the truth was, I never stopped wanting to believe in us.

That was the cruelest part.

Because even now, four years later, Xander Voss still had the power to make me question my own strength.

My phone buzzed.

I jumped like it had screamed.

Xander Voss.

I stared at the name for too long. His text was simple.

“I have something I need you to see before our final interview. You deserve the truth. All of it.”

Attached was a file.

No explanation.

No pressure.

Just a key to the past I’d buried under four years of anger and pain.

I didn’t open it. Not yet.

But I saved it.

Which was already a betrayal to the part of me still pretending I didn’t care.