He shielded me from the cameras, one arm subtly blocking the microphones.

Before I could react, his hand closed around my wrist—firm, steady.

"This way," he said quietly.

I didn’t resist.

I couldn’t.

It was my only way out.

He guided me through the crowd with ease, his presence cutting a path forward.

The noise faded behind us as he led me straight to a sleek sports car, opening the passenger door.

I got in without hesitation.

Moments later, he slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

Only then did he remove his cap and mask.

I froze.

"Aiden?"

"What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

He smiled faintly, eyes still on the road.

"Surprised?"

"I saw the news about the Blackwood family matriarch," he continued.

"I figured you might be around here. But when I got here..."

He glanced at me briefly.

"I saw all that."

I frowned.

"Aiden, that was reckless. You’re a celebrity. What if the media recognized you? With the scandal around me, it won’t be good for your reputation."

His smile deepened, almost amused.

" I apologize for being reckless miss Sinclair," he said in a playful tune.

"But don’t you think I deserve a thank you for saving you, Miss Sinclair?"

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Thank you."

He chuckled.

"So..." he asked casually,

"where do you want to go?"

"I really don’t know... just somewhere away from here."

Aiden glanced at me. "Are you okay?"

I didn’t answer.

Because I wasn’t.

Instead, I forced a small, brittle smile. Thankfully, he didn’t press further. He simply tightened his grip on the wheel and kept driving.

Silence filled the car, heavy and suffocating.

Almost unconsciously, I picked up my phone again.

I opened Twitter.

And checked the post from a few days ago.

I tapped into the topic, and just like I expected, the posts were everywhere—clickbait headlines, edited photos, twisted narratives.

Then I scrolled down to the comments.

My fingers tightened slightly around the phone.

"So this is the woman? Honestly, she really is a beauty."

"Men always cheat for something ’new.’ Nothing surprising."

"Money and game can make you powerful, but it can’t make you lovable."

"It’s not about looks when men cheat; it’s all about how ’fresh’ the new woman is."

"Money is great when it’s yours, but a wife? Better if she’s someone else’s."

Each comment felt like a slap—sharp, precise, and relentless.

And yet... I kept scrolling.

As if I needed to see more.

Soon, a wave of videos began appearing on my feed—beauty comparisons, edited montages, dramatic background music.

One of them had already gone viral.

"CEO Alexander Blackwood’s Affair Partner vs. His girlfriend."

I stared at the title for a long moment before tapping on it.

I didn’t even know why.

More videos followed. Different accounts. Same narrative.

The internet had already decided who I was.

A mistress.

A joke.

A replacement waiting to happen.

My chest tightened, but I forced myself to stay calm.

This wasn’t the worst part.

Another topic was climbing just as fast.

Blackwood Dominion Enterprises.

My heart skipped.

I clicked on it immediately.

There it was.

A screenshot.

The company’s official account had shared a post—from one of those same clickbait pages—accusing me of being the mistress.

My fingers went cold.

I quickly exited and checked the company’s actual page.

The post was gone.

Deleted.

But it was already too late.

The damage had been done.

The comments were exploding with speculation.

"They deleted it? That just confirms it."

"Even their own company couldn’t stand her."

"Looks like someone inside is siding with Lilian."

I stared at the screen, my thoughts turning cold and sharp.

I knew exactly how the company’s accounts were managed.

The PR department.

And this,This wasn’t a mistake.

I skimmed through the rest of the news, but it was all the same.

Insults.

Judgments from people who didn’t even know me.

My chest tightened, frustration building until I couldn’t take it anymore. I was about to power off my phone when suddenly—

Alexander was calling.

My thumb hovered over the screen for a few seconds.

Then I swiped left.

Declined.

Aiden glanced at me briefly but said nothing.

A second later, the phone rang again.

Alexander.

I declined it again, closed all the apps, then held down the power button until the screen went black before slipping it back into my bag.

The entire sequence felt... controlled.

Deliberate.

Out of sight.

Out of mind.

I let out a quiet breath and looked up—

Only to realize we had stopped.

"Aiden...?"

He had brought me to a park.

I turned to him, surprised.

This place...

It was where our parents used to bring us when we were younger.

The last place my mom and I went together before she fell ill.

Before she died.

Aiden stepped out of the car and walked around to open my door.

"Aiden..."

"I figured you might want to visit somewhere you haven’t been in years."

That was all he said.

But it was enough.

My vision blurred as tears welled up in my eyes.

Since my mom died, I had avoided this place.

Avoided the memories.

Avoided the ache.

But now... standing here, with Aiden beside me—

Something stirred inside me.

Something I thought I had lost a long time ago.

"Shall we sit over there?" he asked gently, pointing toward a bench.

I nodded.

He didn’t rush me. Just quietly walked beside me until we sat down.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

The silence wasn’t heavy this time.

It was... comforting.

Grounding.

After a few minutes, I finally turned to him.

"What were you really doing at the hospital?"

Aiden pulled his mask down slightly, his expression calm.

"I had lunch with some people from a production company nearby," he said. "I thought I’d stop by the hospital afterward... maybe I’d get lucky and run into you."

His lips curved faintly.

"I even sent you a message on WhatsApp. You didn’t reply."

Guilt flickered through me.

"Sorry," I said quietly. "My phone was off."

I didn’t mention the accident.He tilted his head slightly as he looked at me.

"You came out here for some peace and quiet?"

Though it was a question, his tone carried certainty.

I bit my lip but didn’t deny it.

"You don’t have to let those online rumors get to you," he continued. "I can’t stand those reporters. They’ll twist anything for attention—make up stories just to get clicks."

I glanced at him.

So he had seen it.

Aiden leaned back slightly, his voice calmer now.

"When I first entered the entertainment industry, I cared too," he admitted. "Every comment, every post—it all got to me."

He let out a quiet breath.

"But after a while, I realized something... those people?" He gave a faint shrug. "They’re strangers. They don’t know me. They never will. Yet they judge me based on a few headlines."

His gaze shifted back to me.

"So why should I care?"

A small smile tugged at his lips.

"My life is far more important than their opinions. And once the hype fades... most of them won’t even remember."

I nodded, forcing a faint smile.

"You’re right."

But the truth was—

What I cared about had never been the rumors.

Never the comments.

Never the strangers hiding behind their screens.

It was him.

Alexander.