Chapter Twenty Two

When the World Finds Out

AURORA

The headline broke at 7:03 a.m.

I watched it bloom across the screen like a bruise no one could hide.

TECH TITAN ZANE WILSON LINKED TO MASSIVE DATA LEAK, SHADOW NETWORK EXPOSED

The words didn’t feel real. They felt theatrical. Like something written about someone else’s life.

But then the photos loaded.

Zane — leaving a building under heavy security.

Zane — blood on his collar, jaw clenched.

Zane — no longer untouchable.

The world had finally found him.

I sat on the edge of the mattress, the phone heavy in my hand. Outside, the city was already awake, buzzing with judgment and speculation. Commentators talked in confident voices about morality and power, about men like him falling from grace.

None of them knew the truth.

None of them knew how carefully this had been engineered — not just by enemies, but by him. And by me.

“You did this,” I whispered.

Not as an accusation. As a fact.

Across the room, the lamp flickered. The safe apartment felt smaller today, like the walls were listening. Zane hadn’t slept. I knew it without looking. He’d been quiet since dawn, watching the river like a man preparing for execution.

“They’re issuing warrants,” Elara said from the doorway. She’d returned silently, as always. “Federal ones. They’ll want statements. They’ll want you.”

I swallowed. “And him?”

Elara hesitated. “They already have him.”

My breath stalled.

“When?”

“An hour ago. He turned himself in.”

The room tilted.

“He what?”

“He didn’t run,” she said softly. “He made a deal.”

I stood up so fast the world swayed. “What kind of deal?”

Elara met my eyes. “The kind where he takes the fall… and you disappear.”

Ice slid into my veins.

“No,” I said. “He doesn’t get to decide that.”

“He already did.”

I turned away, pacing, fury crashing into grief. “He promised he wouldn’t disappear again.”

“He didn’t,” Elara replied. “He chose a different cage.”

I pressed my palms to my temples. The noise in my head was unbearable — memories, kisses, lies, the way his voice softened when he said my name like it was a confession.

“He’s protecting you,” Elara continued. “Every document he handed over redirects scrutiny away from you. From Lyra. From the failsafe.”

My chest tightened painfully.

“He always does this,” I whispered. “He controls the narrative. He sacrifices himself like it makes him clean.”

Elara’s voice gentled. “Does that make it easier to hate him?”

I laughed, broken. “No. It makes it harder to survive him.”

---

ZANE

The room smelled like disinfectant and consequence.

I sat at a metal table under fluorescent lights that buzzed with impatience. My hands were uncuffed — a courtesy that meant nothing. Across from me, three people watched with practiced neutrality.

I didn’t look at them.

I looked at the camera.

Because I knew she’d be watching.

Aurora would see the footage. She’d read between every line, every pause. She’d hear the things I didn’t say.

Good.

“Mr. Wilson,” the woman in the gray suit said, “do you acknowledge your role in Project Lyra?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation. No deflection.

“And your involvement in financial manipulation, data harvesting, and influence modeling?”

“Yes.”

The pen scratched.

“Are there others involved?”

I smiled faintly. “Not anymore.”

She frowned. “We have evidence suggesting—”

“I know what you have,” I said calmly. “And I know what you don’t. I’ll give you everything I promised. Names. Structures. Methods. But Aurora Lupin is not part of this.”

Silence.

The man beside her leaned forward. “You don’t get to make that determination.”

“I do,” I replied. “Because I built the system. And I burned it.”

My chest ached — not from the bruises, but from the knowledge that this was the last control I had. The last way I could protect her.

She would hate this.

Good.

Hate was safer than longing.

“Why?” the woman asked. “Why destroy your own empire?”

I looked straight into the camera.

“Because power without conscience is just another form of violence,” I said. “And because I loved someone enough to stop lying.”

The room went still.

I stood when they told me to. Let them lead me away. The door closed behind me with a finality that echoed through my bones.

I didn’t know how long they’d keep me.

I didn’t know what would happen next.

But I knew this:

Aurora was free.

And losing her was the price.

---

AURORA

I stood alone by the river hours later, the phone dark in my hand.

Zane’s face filled every screen in the city. His voice echoed through interviews I didn’t watch. His name trended in every language.

But he didn’t call.

He didn’t leave a message.

Because this was his goodbye.

The wind cut through my coat as I stared at the water. I felt hollowed out — like something essential had been removed and replaced with silence.

“You don’t get to be a martyr,” I said into the air. “You don’t get to love me from behind bars.”

My throat closed.

But even as anger flared, another truth settled painfully into place:

He hadn’t chosen himself.

He’d chosen me.

And now the question wasn’t whether I loved him.

It was whether I could live with what he’d done in my name.

I turned away from the river, walking back into the city that no longer knew who I was.

Somewhere behind walls and cameras and consequences, Zane Wilson waited.

And for the first time since this began, the fire between us wasn’t about power or control.

It was about time.