Vanessa’s lips curved into a satisfied smile as Adrian turned away from them.Vanessa thought... there it was. The arrogance. The final, delusional move before reality crashed down on him.She tightened her grip around Charles’s arm, already savoring the scene unfolding in her head—the guards stopping Adrian at the entrance, the sharp bark of authority, the public embarrassment. Maybe even a shove. A slap if he talked back. Something loud enough to draw eyes. Phones would come out. Whispers would ripple through the crowd.She wanted him small.Charles leaned closer, his voice low and amused. “Let him go. I want to see how far he’ll take it.”Ahead of them, Adrian placed a hand on Iris’s back, not possessive, not showy—just steady. Guiding. Protective in a way that irritated Vanessa more than any insult ever could.The girl—that girl—walked beside him with her head held high, her steps unhurried, her posture calm. No nerves, no hesitation. She didn’t look like someone sneaking into a p

When Charles finally pulled up in front of Vanessa’s house, the car barely had time to come to a complete stop before she reached for the door handle.She shoved it open and stepped out sharply, her movements stiff with barely restrained fury. The slam of the door that followed was louder than necessary, echoing down the quiet street like punctuation to everything she refused to say. She didn’t look back. Not even once.Charles remained in the driver’s seat for a brief second, his hands still gripping the steering wheel, jaw tight. He watched her retreating figure through the windshield as she marched toward the house, her back rigid, her shoulders squared like she was bracing against something invisible. He considered calling out to her—an apology, an explanation, something—but the look she’d worn in the car told him it would be pointless.So instead, he did what he’d been doing all night.He avoided it.The engine revved, tires rolled forward, and within seconds, Charles’s car disap

Vanessa was dragged out of sleep by the shrill vibration of her phone against the bedside table.She groaned, rolling onto her side and burying her face into the pillow. The curtains were still drawn, the room dim and heavy with the kind of morning light that felt intrusive rather than gentle. Her head throbbed faintly—not from alcohol, but from the emotional exhaustion of the night before. Shame clung to her like a second skin, even in sleep.The phone vibrated again.With an irritated sigh, she reached out blindly, snatching it up and squinting at the screen. Her assistant’s name flashed insistently.“What?” she snapped the moment she answered, her voice thick with sleep. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”There was a pause on the other end, then her assistant spoke quickly, nervously. “Good morning, ma’am. I—um—have you gone online today?”Vanessa scoffed, rolling onto her back. “Obviously not. I was sleeping until you decided to wake me up. What kind of question is that?”The

Vanessa sat rigidly on the edge of her bed, phone still in her hand, the screen glowing with paused footage she hadn’t yet found the courage to replay fully.Her phone vibrated again, this time with an incoming call labeled PR – Nadia.Vanessa stared at the name for a few seconds, jaw tight. Of all people, this was the one she least wanted to hear from right now. Nadia didn’t call unless things were already bad. Emails were for minor fires. Calls were for infernos.She answered anyway.“Yes?” Her voice came out clipped, defensive before the conversation even began.“Vanessa,” Nadia said, skipping pleasantries entirely. Her tone was calm, professional, but weighted. “I need you to listen to me very carefully.”Vanessa scoffed softly. “If this is about last night—”“It is,” Nadia cut in, firmly. “And it’s worse than you think.”Vanessa rolled her eyes and leaned back against the headboard, crossing her arms. “People get denied entry all the time. This will blow over.”There was a brief

The dressing room had settled into a rhythm by the time Charles arrived.Vanessa sat in front of the mirror again, shoulders bare beneath the soft drape of fabric, chin tilted slightly upward as the makeup artist made careful adjustments around her eyes. The worst of the puffiness had been concealed, though the irritation still lingered beneath the surface, visible only to Vanessa herself when she looked too closely.She felt exposed anyway.The room was quiet in that professional way—low voices, deliberate movements, nothing wasted. Monica sat on a stool near the wall, scrolling on her phone, unusually subdued, her earlier chatter replaced by an almost bored vigilance. Nadia stood near the rack of clothes, reviewing something on her tablet, her expression unreadable.The knock came suddenly.Not the tentative tap of staff, but firmer. Confident.Vanessa frowned before anyone else could react. “Who is that?”The door opened without waiting for permission.Charles stepped inside.He lo