Chapter 2

Seeing them together on the bed had already wounded her heart, but hearing Flavier’s cruel words made it feel like a dagger stabbing her chest.

Tyrra gasped, her lungs burning, her skin tingling with a fierce heat. Tears blurred her vision as she stumbled backward, almost tripping over the stilettos by the door. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst.

She ran, not knowing where she was going, only that she had to get away. She jumped into her car, hands trembling on the wheel, and drove aimlessly. Home was impossible. She couldn’t face anyone. Not Grace. Not her father. Not the world.

Her thoughts swirled in a dizzying loop, until a sudden, blaring sound tore her from her haze.

“CRASH!”

The screech of metal made her chest lurch. Her car spun, tires skidding across the road. She slammed the brakes, but it was too late. The vehicle shuddered violently before coming to a stop.

Her hands shook uncontrollably on the wheel. Her vision swam, and her heart raced faster than ever. She swallowed a sob but could only choke back another.

Across the intersection, a sleek black sedan sat at a crooked angle, its bumper crumpled. The door swung open, and a man in a crisp suit stepped out. Tyrra flinched, expecting anger—but when he saw her, his eyes softened.

“What are you doing? Are you trying to kill yourself?” His voice was sharp, but beneath it, she could hear concern.

Tyrra opened her mouth, but only a strangled sob escaped. She sank to her knees in the driver’s seat, covering her face with her hands. She felt small, fragile—a child lost in the middle of a storm.

Her chest heaved. The world felt like it was spinning around her, and all she could do was cry, alone with the weight of heartbreak and the sudden terror of reality.

Her heart raced, hammering in her chest. Was it the accident? The pain of betrayal? Or the fact that someone else was now watching her crumble? The last was the worst. She didn’t want anyone to see her broken.

“Hey… are you okay?” the man asked again, softer this time.

Tyrra didn’t answer. Only her sobs filled the car. She buried her face in her hands, wishing she could vanish.

“Where are you going?” he pressed, leaning slightly to see her. She could feel a vein throb at her temple, but there was something controlled, almost tender, in his voice. “I’ll take you there.”

Inside her, two worlds collided—the sharp, stabbing pain Flavier and Grace had left behind, and the strange, quiet security this stranger offered.

She shook her head, her body trembling. Facing anyone, explaining this chaos, was impossible.

“You’re in no state to drive,” he said, firm now, his concern edging into command. “And your car isn’t going anywhere safely. Let me take you.”

Images of Flavier and Grace flashed through her mind, sharp shards she couldn’t push away. His voice became a distant sound behind the storm in her chest.

He sighed, patience thinning. “Look. You have two choices. Either I get you somewhere safe… or I call the police and let them handle it.”

The thought of police, insurance, embarrassment—it was too much. She shook violently, tears streaming down her face.

“Fine,” she whispered, almost to herself. “Just… take me.”

Tyrra looked at the man slowly. Despite the redness in his eyes, she saw a stubborn determination—and a calm she hadn’t expected. The weight of the threat sank in. Finally, she gave a weak nod.

“Okay,” she said, her voice hoarse from crying.

“Good,” he replied, his eyes softening. “Get in my car. I’ll take care of you.”

She didn’t fight. She had no strength left. Every step toward his car felt heavy, as if chains bound her legs. He guided her to the passenger seat and closed the door gently behind her. Then he motioned for someone to attend to her car.

As she settled in, Tyrra noticed his presence. He was intimidating, yes—but also… safe, in a way she didn’t understand.

She glanced at him as he climbed into the driver’s seat. Dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, and his sharp blue eyes met hers with curiosity.

“For what?” she asked softly.

Anywhere. Literally anywhere, as long as it wasn’t home, wasn’t life, wasn’t the nightmare she’d left behind.

“Anywhere. Just take me anywhere,” she whispered.

He raised an eyebrow, a faint glint of amusement in his eyes. “That’s not very specific,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

Tyrra’s jaw hardened. She didn’t want explanations. She didn’t want pity. She just needed to escape.

Then, driven by desperation, the words slipped out before she could stop them.

“Your place,” she blurted.

His smile vanished, replaced by surprise. “My place?” he repeated, disbelief in his voice.

“Wherever you go is fine,” Tyrra said, her voice trembling.

He let out a heavy breath. Hesitation flickered across his face, but finally, his hand turned the wheel and the car moved.

The ride was silent except for the hum of the engine and the pounding of Tyrra’s heart. She had no idea where they were going—or if she had made the right decision. All she knew was there was no turning back.

Her gentle sniffling broke the quiet. She couldn’t stop it.

After a while, he glanced at her. “Are you sure you don’t want to go home… or to the hospital?” he asked softly.

Tyrra shook her head. The tears had finally subsided, leaving her weak, as if the strength in her chest had drained away.

He hesitated, then sighed. “Okay,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going on, but if you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, voice barely audible. She led him into the suite while the driver tended to the cars.

Once inside, he guided her to the couch and handed her a glass of water. Her hands shook as she took it, barely able to hold it steady.

“What happened?” he asked gently, sitting down beside her. “Why are you crying?”

Tyrra couldn’t speak. Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook her head. The weight of heartbreak and disappointment was too heavy to put into words.

Seeing that he didn’t speak, Tyrra got up. “I need to freshen up,” she said, wrapping the towel tighter around her waist. “It’s been a long day.” Without waiting for a response, she slipped into the bathroom.

When she came out, she froze. He was standing in her room.

“What are you doing here? Do you need something?” she asked, her voice trembling.

He didn’t answer at once. His gaze was fixed on her, unreadable, intense. “Are you married?”

Tyrra blinked. “No… Why are you—”

“Engaged? Or… do you have a boyfriend?” he cut in, the intensity in his eyes sharp.

“No,” she said, confused, her voice barely above a whisper.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, the tension pressing down like a weight. Then he stepped slightly closer, testing her reaction.

“Do you… want to be with me?” His tone was calm, direct, but not threatening.

Tyrra’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart raced, and a wild mix of fear, shock, and a strange, confusing attraction tangled inside her. She couldn’t think. Her mind refused to form words.