Chapter 2: He Came When Everyone Left

Chapter 2: He Came When Everyone Left

“Do you really believe this will save you?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.

I nodded, fighting tears. “It has to.”

He sighed, a rare flicker of vulnerability slipping through the cracks of his armor. “You don’t know what you’re getting into, Kourtney.”

I met his eyes, defiant. “Neither do you.”

And in that moment, the distance between us vanished, replaced by a dangerous, irresistible closeness.

Days passed in a blur of whispered negotiations and stolen glances. Travis was relentless — a force of nature I both feared and craved.

He taught me to navigate the treacherous world of power and betrayal, all while our fragile truce grew into something neither of us dared name.

One night, under the weight of a storm raging outside, he found me on the balcony, staring at the city’s endless lights.

He joined me silently, his presence like a shield against the darkness.

“You still want this?” he asked, voice low and rough.

I nodded, unable to speak.

His hand found mine, fingers curling around mine with possessive heat.

“Good,” he whispered. “Because once we say ‘I do,’ there’s no turning back.”

His lips brushed my temple, a promise and a threat all at once.

But the night before the wedding, the past came crashing back with a vengeance.

A text appeared on my phone — a message from an unknown number.

“Stop this before it’s too late. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

My blood ran cold.

Travis appeared behind me, eyes dark as thunder.

“Who was that?” he demanded.

I hesitated, then showed him the screen.

He read it slowly, face unreadable.

Then, without warning, he crushed the phone in his hand, the shards falling like shattered dreams to the floor.

“We have enemies,” he said quietly. “More than you know.”

I shivered, caught between fear and the fierce, burning need to face whatever came — as long as he was by my side.

The wedding day dawned cold and gray, the city cloaked in fog that felt like a veil between us and the world.

The grand hall was adorned with white roses and flickering candles — a perfect illusion of peace.

Travis waited at the altar, a dark silhouette against the soft light.

When our eyes met, everything else fell away.

He took my hand, his grip firm, steady.

“We’re doing this,” he murmured.

I nodded, heart pounding.

As the officiant began the vows, a sudden explosion rocked the building.

The lights flickered and died.

The crowd gasped.

And from the shadows, a voice echoed — cold, mocking.

“You think this ends with a ring?”

The room plunged into chaos once more.

And I realized, with a chilling certainty —

This marriage was just the beginning of a war neither of us could win alone.

  

“Alright, tell her I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

I gave myself one last glance in the old Venetian mirror by the door. The moonlight spilled softly across the antique gold frame, making its intricate carvings of flowers and leaves seem to breathe with a life of their own—watching me, judging me, waiting.

I wore a white dress, backless and delicate, adorned with soft cherry blossom prints that fluttered like fragile whispers against my skin. The fabric hugged my curves in a way that felt almost dangerous—innocent, yet bold. The hem stopped just above my knees, revealing my legs in the moon’s pale glow.

That dress wasn’t just fabric and thread. It was a promise.

Earlier that day, I’d splurged on it with Addison and Penelope at Dior. The moment I saw it, my breath caught—the way it fit, the way it moved. It was like destiny stitched itself into silk.

“That dress is made for you,” Addison had whispered, eyes wide with awe.

When the saleslady said it was the last one, I didn’t hesitate. I bought it. Not just for myself, but for the power I was trying to reclaim—the control that had slipped through my fingers in recent weeks. Almost three million pesos spent. A reckless amount, my mother would scream. But this was more than money. This was my rebellion.

But standing there in the silence of the hallway, the weight of the night pressed down on me like a storm waiting to break. The chandelier flickered uncertainly, and my heart followed suit—fluttering with nerves, with dread, with something deeper I couldn’t name.

In the library, Mom paced with frantic energy, her voice sharp and clipped over the phone. She didn’t look at me once. Her usual regal composure was gone, replaced by a wildness in her eyes—dark and desperate. The scent of cold coffee hung in the air like a warning.

I sank onto the black velvet sofa, the fabric swallowing me like a secret. My phone buzzed relentlessly.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

I unlocked it and opened Messenger. My heart sank as dozens of messages flooded the screen. I tapped on the group chat with Addison and Penelope—our sacred space.

Addison has left the group chat.

Penelope has left the group chat.

My breath caught.

What?

Then a chilling message appeared.

They are no longer yours.

My fingers trembled. My vision blurred.

“Kourtney!”

Mom’s voice shattered the quiet.

I stood, trembling. “Mom—”

“What have you done?!” Her scream ripped through me like a whip. Her mascara was smudged, tears trailing down like ash. “Three million pesos on dresses? When everything is falling apart? Your father is barely holding on, and you throw money away like it grows on trees?”

“I—Mom, I didn’t mean to—”

“No!” She cut me off. “We are not who we used to be. This is a war for survival, not a game.”

Her words crashed over me like cold waves.

“You’re grounded.” Her voice was sharp, final. “No shopping. No phone. No laptop. No outside world. Your school will send lessons here. You’re done.”

My throat closed tight. “You’re serious?”

She stormed to the bookshelf, pulling down thick volumes coated in dust and neglect. She dropped them on the table with a brutal thud.