Susan wasn't prepared for the storm waiting outside Chris's home.
News vans. Reporters. Flashbulbs. Microphones shoved in her face.
The headlines were everywhere *Kidnapped Victim Saved by Billionaire*, *Lopez Family Scandal Unfolds*, *Chris Lopez's Company Under Fire for Human trafficking*. The whispers, the rumours, the blame it was all laid bare for the world to feast on.
"Miss, do you have a comment? Were you involved with Chris Lopez? Did his family orchestrate the kidnapping?"
"Is it true you were found unconscious?"
"Are you being forced to stay with him?"
Susan's breath came fast and shallow. She stumbled back, shielding her face, heart hammering. The barrage of voices clawed at her, suffocating.
She turned and bolted, ignoring the cameras, the flashing lights, the endless questions. By the time she reached her apartment and slammed the door shut, her body trembled so violently she slid down against it, clutching her knees.
She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. And in that choking silence, the truth landed hard.
She forced herself up, wiping her face. She couldn't stay. She wouldn't. She dug into her savings, the money she'd been holding for emergencies. It was enough to vanish, to start fresh on the outskirts of town. She packed her bags with steady hands, each fold of clothing a quiet vow: no more men, no more heartbreak.
Her suitcase by the door, she told herself she was ready. Until a knock came.
Her body stiffened.
"Who's there?" Her voice shook.
"It's Michael. Can I talk to you?"
Relief and dread tangled in her chest. She opened the door, stepping outside quickly before he could glimpse the packed bag inside.
Michael's eyes flicked anyway. He saw. His lips pressed together, but he didn't comment. "Just a minute?"
She bit her lip, then nodded.
"Look," Michael began, voice softer this time. "I've known Chris over twenty years. He acts tough, rude, untouchable but he's a coward when it comes to feelings. He chooses his safe zone first. Always. But it eats him alive after, because under it all, he's got a heart too damn soft for his own good."
Susan looked down; her throat tight.
"He screwed up," Michael went on, "but it wasn't malice. It was fear. He's terrified you'll pretend to forgive him, then blindside him later. That's all this is fear."
"I don't have the energy for that." Her voice cracked, exhaustion seeping through.
Michael gave a small, rueful laugh. "Yeah. I get that."
He tried again. "He's in trouble, Susan. Big trouble. He's not ready to face it, but if you'd just…"
She shook her head firmly. "I'm not going to him first. He let me walk away. If that's what he wanted, so be it. I hold no grudges against him, his aunt, or his ex. I'm grateful he saved me, that he helped me heal. But I won't chase him."
Michael studied her, then sighed, respect softening his features. "You're leaving."
Her lips pressed together. "…Won't be my first time."
"God, I hope this works out for you both," Michael muttered, defeated, before walking away.
Chris ignored Michael's calls until the text came.
Susan's packed and leaving. Hope that's what you wanted.
Chris's blood ran cold. He was on his feet instantly, rushing to his car. The drive blurred. He barely remembered the streets, only the pounding in his chest as he pulled up to her building just in time to see her step into a taxi.
He parked and watched; breath caught in his throat.
At the bus station, she climbed out, suitcase in hand. She didn't look back.
Every instinct in him screamed to get out, to run to her, to beg. But the press, the flashing cameras, the recognition if they saw him, if they tied him to her here, the scandal would consume them both.
His fingers gripped the wheel until his knuckles burned. He thought he could let her go. Let her vanish. Stay safe in his world of silence and steel.
But as the bus pulled away, his heart tore with it.
And for the first time, Chris Lopez knew what it meant to lose something he couldn't buy back.
"Call the media. All of them. I'll address this once."
Chris's voice was flat, his PA nodding quickly before hurrying out.
Hours later, under the glare of cameras and harsh lights, Chris Lopez sat across from a panel of reporters. Every question was a needle.
"No, I didn't know about their plan," he said curtly, jaw tight.
"Did you send Miss Susan away because you didn't want the truth to come out?"
The words hit him like a blow. In one sense, it was true not the truth about his family, but about himself. His cowardice. His inability to hold her close when it mattered. But that wasn't something he could admit.
"No," he forced out, stretching a polite smile that didn't touch his eyes.
It dragged on for weeks. Probes into his company's accounts. Demands for transparency. Anonymous whispers trying to stir chaos. He could feel someone gunning for him, wanting him brought down at all costs. But he held his ground, cleaned house, faced the storm. By the end of it, the media circus began to shift, the story was no longer about scandal, but about his interviews, his defence, his composure.