The headlines hit like a slap.
"Kai Allard Involved in Club Brawl,Substance Use, Woman Disappears."
"Mystery Woman and Blood Trail: Is Football's Golden Boy Spiraling?"
He stared at his phone screen, rage simmering beneath his skin.
They made it sound like he started the fight. That he was reckless, high, possibly violent. No mention of the men who ambushed him. No hint of the setup. No truth.
And worst of all,
No sign of the woman who saved him.
Her face was burned into his memory,but distorted. Blurred by adrenaline, blood, and drugs. He remembered the feel of her. The safety in her voice. Her warmth in the dark.
He remembered the intimacy,every inch of it. Every sound she made. Every trembling breath.
But he couldn't remember her face.
And he never got her name.
"I don't even know your name," he'd said, just before he walked out of the hotel room.
No glance back. Just confusion and something close to shame,he left with his head spinning and heart caged.
He'd replayed that moment for days now. Wondering why it felt like he'd left something behind. Something more than just a stranger in a dark room.
Something… vital.
She read the articles in a blur of nerves and nausea.
He doesn't remember me.
She'd already known that,but reading the headlines again, watching the world swarm with questions about the woman in the room, made it feel freshly cruel.
No one knew it was her. Not yet. No photos. No evidence. No proof.
But the feeling wouldn't leave her,the fear of being found out, and the pain of being forgotten all at once.
She told herself it was better this way.
He was back in his world,high-profile, untouchable, distracted by damage control and lies.
And she was here, invisible again, pretending she hadn't spent her entire life loving a man who didn't recognize her even after taking her body like it meant something.
Her chest ached. She hadn't slept. Her art had stalled.
But she couldn't stop seeing him in her dreams.
Couldn't stop hearing that voice...
"I don't even know your name."
He slammed the laptop shut.
The PR team wanted a soft apology. A distraction. A charity appearance.
But all he wanted was the truth.
Who set him up?
Why now?
How did they find out about the woman?
He wasn't new to pressure. Fame. Envy. But this… this was strategic. It wasn't about tabloids. It was about ruining him.
And the woman…
There was something about her voice. That softness.
"You're safe. Just stay with me. I won't let them find you."
Every time he closed his eyes, he heard it. Felt it in his bones.
Who was she?
Why did her voice feel like memory?
Why did it feel like home?
She turned off her phone. Disconnected from the noise.
She couldn't bear to see his face anymore on every headline, every scroll, every digital billboard flashing his name with scandal and question marks.
She tried to work. Tried to paint. But the canvas stared back at her blank and accusing.
How could she pour beauty into something when her chest felt hollow?
She had given him everything.
Her love.
Her first time.
Her promise from childhood, broken by silence.
And now he was farther than ever.
And she couldn't tell if she missed him, or hated him, or both.
He didn't sleep.
Instead, he ran through names. Rivals. Business enemies. Journalists he pissed off.
And still,nothing.
No lead.
No explanation.
Just the empty echo of that woman in the dark.
And the sound of his own voice, cursing himself for leaving without looking back.
Elsewhere...
A woman in red lipstick clicked open her phone and scrolled through Kai's latest headlines with a smirk.
She recognized the panic in his eyes, the desperation behind his public silence.
Exactly what she wanted.
She tapped the edge of her wine glass and whispered to herself:
"Almost time."