The Contract With Her Father's Billionaire Rival-Chapter 75. Ruining Everything.

As soon as Nicolette and Trainer got out of the building, camera flashes erupted from everywhere.

Questions were hurled from every angle.

Each question felt like a bullet, sharp and merciless.

Reporters struggled to get to Nicolette, fighting their way across the crowd, buzzing around like flies. Their elbows jabbed one another, their cameras swung wildly, desperate to get closer.

"Get out of the way!" Trainer yelled, but it was no use. His voice was drowned out by the roar of curiosity and competition.

He was overpowered by the questions, swallowed in the crowd, tossed around like a rag doll.

"What are you doing here when you should be on your honeymoon?"

The words sliced through the air, heavy with accusation.

"What does your husband have to say about you being here?"

Microphones jutted closer, as if trying to force the answer from her mouth.

"Are you in love with Lucian or Alaric?"

"Is it true your marriage with Alaric is fake?"

The questions came from all angles, and for a moment, Nicolette lost her footing.

The ground seemed to vanish beneath her, swallowed by flashing lights and noise.

She fell to the ground, her face kissing the pavement.

A collective gasp rose from the crowd, cameras clicking faster than ever.

She tasted blood, yet the reporters only gathered closer, poking their microphones at her, angling their cameras to capture her downfall.

No one offered help; instead, they fought for a better angle of her humiliation.

"Trainer!" she yelled, her voice tight from pain and humiliation.

Her cry was swallowed by the sea of bodies and the frenzy activity.

"Trainer!" she yelled again, straining her voice to be heard.

But she couldn’t find him, nor hear him over the horde around her.

Somebody—she didn’t know who—helped her to her feet while the questions kept coming. Their grip was rough, almost desperate, as if dragging her into more chaos.

Nicolette staggered upright, sweat dripping down her face, her sight blurring for a moment, the world spinning wildly.

She breathed hard, fighting her way through the crowd until Trainer finally found her.

"I’m here, ma’am. I’m here. I brought the car," Trainer said, helping her to stay steady. "Get out of the way!" he barked at the reporters.

His arm found hers, strong and determined as he pulled her out of the madness, pulling her just enough to move.

Even as they made their way to the car, the reporters still followed, and Nicolette couldn’t blame them.

Their hunger for a story was stronger than any sense of decency.

Lucian and Ronald were to be blamed, they had thrown her out the front door when they knew reporters were waiting.

It was like they were setting up her failure. Every step she took felt scripted, like it was part of a game she never realized she was participating in, a game she was never meant to win.

Once they got to the car, she slid inside, and Trainer drove off.

Nicolette panted, leaning back into the car seat. Her mouth hurt and her head was starting to ache.

She looked behind her, trying to see if they had not been followed. When she was sure they were not, she relaxed on the seat.

Trainer met her eyes in the rearview mirror, his voice cracking. "Mr. Allens is going to kill me."

"No, he won’t," she said, her chest heaving as she spoke. "We’ll just tell him what happened. Our hands were tied."

"I mean... your face," Trainer said.

Fear gripped Nicolette’s chest. She quickly reached for her phone, setting the camera to mirror mode and angling it to see herself properly.

She gasped at her reflection.

Her mouth was sore. Her nose looked crooked. She was bleeding everywhere.

"Fuck," she groaned.

"I’m sorry, ma’am," Trainer said, his voice low.

"It’s okay. Once we get home, I’ll take care of it," she said.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the headache, but it kept coming, heavy and unrelenting. She leaned against the seat, breathing in and out to steady herself.

Despite her pain, her thoughts drifted to everything that had just happened.

She couldn’t believe Lucian had forced her to that party. And Ronald? Nothing she did would make him release her mother’s drawings.

She dug her nails into her palms, her skin burning with fury.

Her phone buzzed with a message, pulling her out of her spiral. It was from Hillary.

"I thought you were on your honeymoon. What are you doing at that event? Leave, Lettie, please."

Nicolette growled at the message, her anger rising again.

It was all over the news.

Fuck!

Lucian and Ronald had managed to ruin all the beautiful plans Alaric had set in place. Her mind went to Alaric, and she wondered what he must be thinking.

She unlocked her phone to dial his number and noticed he had already called her earlier.

She dialed again, but he didn’t answer.

She ran a hand through her hair, wondering how he must be feeling. She couldn’t wait to tell him everything, from Lucian to Ronald to the guy with the full head of hair.

Nicolette’s stomach churned at the recollection.

Who was that man?

He had recognized her instantly, and fled before she got to him. That could mean he knew exactly what he had done.

But who did he work for?

Who sent him?

Lucian or Ronald?

She had thought Ronald was involved alone, but with Lucian’s attitude and the fact that it had been at his event that the man had been seen, she was beginning to think Lucian might have worked with Ronald all along.

But she wasn’t sure.

She definitely had to call Detective Hector.

Her phone rang again, pulling her from her thoughts. When she reached for it, she saw it was Alaric calling.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Are you done?" Alaric’s voice was harsh.

Nicolette’s stomach twisted. "What?"

"Are you done making me look like a fool in public? We were supposed to be on our honeymoon! You knew that, yet you went to him?"

She was stunned by his tone, by the way the words rolled off his tongue. "I didn’t go to him," she said quickly, trying to explain. "We were forced. I would never—"

"Yeah, right," Alaric interrupted sharply. "With the picture you both took together?"

She sighed, clenching her fists as she remembered how Lucian had forced her into that picture. "I can explain—"

"Don’t," Alaric said. Even through the anger, she could hear the hurt in his voice. "Enjoy yourself." Then he hung up.

"No!" she cried, slamming her fist into the seat.

"We’re already home, ma’am," Trainer said, skidding the car into the premises.

Nicolette jumped out and ran to Alaric’s study. Her heart pounded with every step.

She had to see him, she had to explain herself.

"Alaric," she called as she pushed his door open.

The study was empty and her stomach dropped. What now?

She pulled out her phone and dialed his number again.

He didn’t answer.

She called again, desperation clawing at her.

Finally, he picked up—but his voice was cold.

"Stop calling me!" he snapped, and her stomach knotted.

"Let me just explain, please," she pleaded.

"No. I don’t need it," he said. "And don’t wait up for me. I’m not coming home tonight." Then he hung up.

Pain crawled inside her, hollow and raw.

But she wasn’t going to give up, Lucian was not ruining this for her. Not after everything that had happened between them.

Ignoring the blood dripping from her mouth, she raced to the living room, dialing Alaric again. Tears clouded her vision—tears from the pain in her body, the ache in her heart.

Alaric didn’t answer and she punched the air. She couldn’t give up now.

Damn, was this how he felt when she didn’t give him the chance to explain?

She placed her hand on her chest, trying to steady her nerves. Her hands shook slightly as she dialed his number again.

Anna rushed to her, her eyes widened with shock. "Oh my goodness! Lettie, you’re bleeding."

She ignored Anna, pacing around the room with the phone still pressed to her ear.

Anna touched her hand, trying to calm her. "You... need help. Let me help you with the—"

Nicolette spun to Anna, her eyes sharp. "I’m fine! I just need—"

She paused, her eyes dropping to the items by the corner. There were tall bouquets of flowers, way taller than Nicolette. More flowers. Gifts. Picnic baskets.

Her stomach squeezed at the gifts sprawled around. She blinked, the corner of her eyes welling up with tears.

Could Alaric have...

"What... is that?"

Anna’s face contorted with sadness. "It is for you. Mr. Allens was preparing a surprise picnic for you."

The tears streamed down her cheeks, her heart shattered at the discovery.

Fucking Lucian! He had ruined everything!