All Chapters of Echelon: Chapter 51 - Chapter 56

Ever since the confrontation with Andrew, Carrie refused to shed another tear for him. Not in public. Not in private. She put on her brave face and wore it like armor, every smile carefully rehearsed, every word clipped and steady. If anyone noticed the shadows under her eyes, they didn't dare mention it.She threw herself into her work with a kind of desperation that almost scared her. She was everywhere at once, approving layouts, fixing pitches, reviewing articles at a pace that made her staff both grateful and terrified. People praised her for being composed, for handling pressure without flinching. No one realized she was simply distracting herself from the ache that gnawed beneath her sternum.The media, to her surprise, had gone quiet. No photos of Andrew and Kara. No stories about their supposed reconciliation or her. But Carrie wasn't naive. She knew silence didn't come for free. The Lorenzos were billionaires, with enough money to buy influence, to smooth away whispers, to b

The days in Bicol stretched long and unhurried, each one softening Carrie a little more. And somewhere in that quiet rhythm, Alex became a constant presence.Carrie woke to roosters instead of traffic, to the rustle of leaves instead of elevator chimes. She slept eight hours without nightmares. She ate meals without reading emails between bites. She realized she had forgotten what it was like to breathe deeply. Her heart, once bruised and swollen, no longer felt like a wound.He would stop by after his rounds, sometimes carrying a basket of freshly picked calamansi, other times with nothing but a lazy grin and a casual, "Let's go for a drive." He was easy to be around, never asking for more than she was ready to give. With him, silence felt comfortable instead of heavy.They drove with the windows down, warm wind whipping her hair, the scent of rice fields filling the air. He pointed out landmarks, the bakery that sold the best pan de sal, the sari-sari store run by someone who gossip

The bass from the club below was a dull thrum beneath my feet, but my focus was locked on her. Carrie Tuazon. Standing in my suite, flushed from liquor, trembling, chin lifted in that same defiant tilt, like she still believed she could fight me off with words.The sound of the music beneath us vibrated through the floor, heavy and reckless. The rhythm pulsed like a heartbeat under the marble tiles, like the city itself was urging something to happen. My suite was insulated from the neon chaos outside, but I could still feel the echo of the crowd, the energy, the electricity of bodies moving and losing themselves in anonymity. Up here, though, nothing was anonymous. Everything was sharp. Everything was real. Her presence filled every inch of the room.She said it was a wrong turn. I didn't believe her. Nothing in Elysium was ever accidental, least of all her ending up here.Her voice had wavered when she said it. Barely. Just enough for me to see the truth hiding under her lie. People