Chapter 4: Done Running

Chapter 4: Done Running

And then she ran.

The night air outside the Saavedra estate was cold and sharp, biting through Kim’s black jacket as she sprinted across the eastern grounds. Her boots crunched against the gravel path she used to sneak out of as a teenager—funny how some things never changed.

Alarms blared behind her. The estate was alive with panic, lights flickering on across every wing. She could hear Travis shouting, security scrambling. She didn’t have much time.

At the far end of the gardens, an old wrought-iron gate stood slightly ajar. She had disabled the motion sensors an hour before making her move. Her exit was meticulous. Planned to the last second.

Just like the confrontation that awaited her.

She didn’t run to safety.

She ran home.

Twenty Minutes Later — Saavedra Downtown Penthouse

The elevator dinged softly as it reached the top floor.

Kim stepped out into the quiet of the Saavedra penthouse—the private home her mother had retreated to once she left the estate. It was sleek, cold, elegant. Just like her.

Her mother was waiting by the window, glass of wine in hand, gazing out over the glittering skyline.

“You tampered with the servers,” her mother said, not turning around.

Kim didn't flinch. “Just the ones with the black files. FRGR's darkest secrets. I made sure they burned.”

“You had no right.”

“I had every right,” Kim snapped. “You sold our family’s name to the wolves. Dad was just the face. You were always the hands pulling the strings.”

Her mother turned slowly now. Eyes sharp. Voice colder than the ice in her drink. “You think I did this for greed? For power?”

“You did it for control,” Kim said, stepping closer. “Even after I left, you tried to pull me back. Through guilt. Through lies. Through Travis.”

Her mother blinked, just once. “Ah. So this is about him again.”

“No,” Kim said. “This is about me. About how you broke me into the perfect shape. And when I cracked, you just moved on to Kourtney.”

Her mother laughed softly, bitterly. “You think you were special? You think Kourtney was spared?”

“She still believes in you. Somewhere deep down, she still wanted to come back. To understand you.”

“And you?” her mother asked. “What do you believe?”

Kim took out the last flash drive from her pocket and placed it on the glass table between them.

“I believe you buried things so dark even you were afraid of them. FRGR isn’t just a scandal. It’s a legacy of corruption, manipulation, and blood. And it ends with me.”

Her mother walked around the table slowly, heels clicking like a metronome of dread. “You’re still my daughter, Kim. And whether you admit it or not, you’re more like me than you care to believe.”

Kim's voice was firm. “Maybe. But that ends now.”

Her mother stopped inches from her face.

“You really think the world will listen to you?” she asked. “You’re unstable. Vindictive. Betraying your family for what—closure?”

“I’m not the one who betrayed us,” Kim said, staring her down. “You made monsters and called it loyalty. I’m just the mirror you don’t want to look into.”

Silence.

Then her mother stepped back.

“You think I don’t have backup plans?” she said quietly. “That little stunt at the estate bought you time. Not immunity.”

Kim nodded. “Then I guess you’d better be ready. Because I’m done running.”

She turned toward the elevator, her heart racing.

But before she could press the button, her mother said one last thing:

“You know he still loves her. Travis.”

Kim stopped.

Her mother stepped forward, twisting the knife. “You see it in his eyes every time he looks at her. You were a placeholder. You always were.”

Kim’s hand tightened at her side.

“I know,” she said without turning around. “But unlike you, I’m not going to destroy everything just because I lost.”

And she left.

Back at the Estate — That Same Night

Travis stood in the smoking server room, hands on his hips. The drive Kim had inserted was still blinking—corrupted data flashing like a dying heartbeat.

Kourtney joined him, her face unreadable.

“Did we lose everything?” she asked.

“Not everything,” Travis said, holding up a second drive—one he had pulled just before Kim’s sabotage. “There’s still one truth left to uncover.”

Kourtney exhaled. “Where do we start?”

Travis looked at her. “With the name Saavedra. And what it really means.”

She nodded.

But neither of them saw the last security feed flickering back to life.

Kim’s face, in her mother’s penthouse.

Her voice: "I’m done running."

And in that instant, the war between blood and truth was no longer simmering.

It was erupting.

“This is my…” My voice faltered, caught in that agonizing pause when words refuse to come. How was I supposed to introduce Travis to all these expectant faces staring at me?

Friend? No. My mind screamed, Not after everything.

Acquaintance? Absolutely not.

Family friend? That sounded too casual, like he was some distant relative who showed up for holidays. If only I had Noah or Rush here—I could have said “friends” without hesitation, no questions asked.

The room was thick with silence, and my heart pounded loud enough I was sure everyone could hear it.

“Miss Martinez?” The dean’s voice was firm but patient, breaking my internal chaos. “How is he related to you?”

Before I could answer, Seth’s father leaned in, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe he’s from the college department,” he suggested quietly. “You called him just to have a guardian here, and your parents don’t even know about this. Miss Martinez, we will conduct a background check.”

My eyes widened. I hadn’t expected that.

“Why don’t you introduce your companion to us, Miss Martinez?” The dean urged again.

I tugged on Travis’s suit jacket, urging him to stand by my side. To my relief, he did—calm, collected, the confident stranger in the room.

I scanned the sea of faces—the skeptical teachers, worried parents, and curious students—and took a deep breath.

“This is my…” Words stuck in my throat again.

Travis caught my eye and smiled faintly.

And then it hit me.

He’s a Forger.

Their eyes, once clouded with suspicion, flickered with understanding. Being a Forger wasn’t just a name; it was a legacy. That meant he was family.

I rubbed my forehead, a rush of relief washing over me. No more pretending. No more lies.

“He’s family,” I said quietly, my voice steady now.

The room fell into murmurs.

“FRGR group?” Seth’s father asked, voice lowering.

Travis nodded.

The dean gestured towards a chair. “Mr. Forger, please have a seat. Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

Travis obliged, sitting upright as though he was ready for whatever came next.

“Miss Martinez,” the dean said, turning to me, “why don’t you explain what happened? Why did Liam and Seth fight? After you finish, we’ll hear their side.”

My hands trembled as I scratched the back of my head. I didn’t want to admit I was the cause of the fight. How could I? But now there was no way around it.

“It started because of me,” I began hesitantly. “Liam and Seth were arguing over something that happened between us. I guess... I guess I should’ve been more careful.”

I looked at Liam’s mother. She gave me a cold, unreadable look, arms crossed tightly.

“We were all suspended for three days,” I continued. “And after this meeting, we won’t be allowed to attend school until further notice.”

The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock.

I swallowed hard, thinking of how Liam’s mom had rushed to his side the moment she saw the bruise on his face, blaming me as if I had crushed his entire world. The truth was, Seth was the one who threw the punch.

Liam was a mama’s boy through and through. Earlier that day, I had messaged him breaking things off, then blocked his number and social media accounts. No more calls, no more texts.

Travis had walked ahead of me when I was texting him, so I was sure he didn’t know.

At least, I thought so.

We stepped out into the parking lot. The cold evening air brushed against my skin, but I was lost in my own thoughts.

Suddenly, I bumped hard into something.

“Ouch!” I yelped, touching my forehead.

I looked up to find myself staring at Travis’s back. His posture was solid, unyielding—like a fortress.

“Your back is so hard!” I complained, half annoyed.

He didn’t respond.

Instead, his voice was sharp and unexpectedly close behind me.

“Who are you texting?”

I furrowed my brows. “Do you have eyes in the back of your head? How did you know?”

Before I could say more, I felt a sudden shift in the air.

“What are you doing?” Travis’s voice was softer now, curious.

I took a step back, unsteady on my feet. My heart was racing—fast enough that I thought it might burst.

To be continued...