Chapter 7 - chapter 6

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Though Judie's heart ached with worry for Liya, she didn't stand in her way.

She saw clearly—this wasn't escape, not from duty, but from death itself. Liya wasn't running away; she was fighting to keep the fragments of her soul intact.

So Judie packed her silence into Liya's suitcase. With trembling fingers, she booked the ticket and held her close one last time at the airport, swallowing the ache in her throat.

"Promise me... promise me you'll be okay," she whispered, voice breaking.

Liya said nothing.

Only a hollow nod, her eyes dry and distant, like a storm already passed.

And then she was gone—vanished beyond borders, beyond reach, out of Jaden's world.

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But Jaden refused to let go.

A week after the scandal's echo faded from the headlines, he appeared at Judie's door, soaked to the bone as rain hammered the earth like an ominous drum. His clothes clung to him, his face ghostly pale and eyes sunken with desperation.

"She's here, isn't she?" he rasped, voice raw with pleading.

Judie met him with an unreadable gaze. "I don't know where she is."

His voice cracked. "She won't answer my calls. Doesn't read my messages. I just want to talk to her—Judie."

"I told you, I don't know." Her tone cut through the air, sharp and cold.

And then the door slammed shut.

Outside, drenched and defeated, he stood frozen for an hour—waiting for a crack, a flicker, any sign she might come back.

But the door remained sealed.

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A month passed, and the bitter truth settled like ice in his bones.

Liya was gone—gone in every way that mattered.

Jaden had lost her.

He had lost everything.

The company that once bore his name slipped through his fingers. His reputation lay in ruins, a stain that no amount of time could cleanse. His vast mansion—once a symbol of triumph—felt like a mausoleum, suffocating in its silence.

Nights stretched long and merciless.

Some nights he drowned himself in drink until dawn. Others, he stood on the balcony's edge, staring down at the dark streets below, wondering if falling meant freedom.

Once, he tried.

The pills settled heavy in his stomach, and the shadows pulled him under. But fate was cruel—or perhaps kind—because his housekeeper arrived just in time, dragging him back from the edge.

Again. And again.

Each time, rescue. Each time, survival—not salvation.

Until the day he stopped fighting—not for life, but because even death seemed to refuse him.

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Desperation led him to Dorothy.

He hadn't seen her in months—not since that fateful night—but her words haunted him like a ghost:

"One day, you'll crawl back here."

Now, that day had come.

He stood before the grand estate gates, his clothes wrinkled, eyes bloodshot and glassy, hands shaking as he approached the guard.

"I need to see her," he croaked. "Tell Dorothy it's Jaden. Tell her I need help. I want to find Liya."

The guard didn't glance up. "Miss Dorothy said no visitors. No exceptions."

"Please. Just five minutes."

"No exceptions."

He waited, pleaded, begged—

But Dorothy never appeared.

And when he walked away that night, he carried more brokenness than ever before.

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Then the universe dealt another blow: the hospital called.

His mother—ill and forgotten in a private ward—was at risk of being transferred to a public facility for lack of payment.

The voice on the phone was cold, final.

Something inside Jaden shattered.

Alone in the dim light of his bedroom, he stared at a photograph of his mother resting on the nightstand. Her smile—soft, kind, undeserving of the world's cruelty—seared into his memory.

I still have her.

For the first time in months, a fragile spark of purpose flickered inside him.

He wiped his tears away.

He began again.

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He sold his car.

Took a job under a new name.

Worked night shifts, cleaned floors, hauled boxes—anything to keep the bills paid.

Piece by piece, he fought for her.

He cut out the alcohol, the parties, the distractions.

No indulgences.

Only work.

Only survival.

For her.

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Months slipped by.

One cold night, walking home from work, a glow caught his eye.

Through the window of a small electronics shop, a television flickered.

He paused.

There she was.

Liya.

Radiant and poised, her long dark hair loosely braided. Her voice calm, steady, as she spoke of her animated series breaking through borders, winning hearts.

A banner scrolled beneath her image:

"Liya Tamien — Award-Winning Animator Making Waves Abroad."

Around him, passersby cheered, clapped, admired.

But Jaden froze.

That smile, that spark in her eyes—it wasn't the broken girl who'd crumbled in his arms.

She had risen.

Moved on.

Without him.

And somewhere in his chest, warmth curdled into bitterness.

Resentment.

Hatred.

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Three years passed.

Jaden was no longer the man he had been.

Gone was the boyish charm, the confident swagger.

Left behind was a silence carved from grief, regret, and nights spent haunted by ghosts.

He never tried to reach her again.

Not because his love had faded.

But because it had darkened—twisted into something else.

Something permanent.

Something beyond saving.

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A man in a suit burst into the room, sweat glistening on his brow, his breath ragged as he bowed deeply. "Sir. He refused to handover the treasure." he trembled.

From the shadows of the private suite, Jaden sat calmly, a slow, mocking chuckle escaping his lips. It wasn't a laugh born of amusement—it was cold, cruel, and terrifying, cutting through the air like a blade. Even the toughest guard found himself trembling, a fierce urge rising within him to flee.

"Why don't I accompany you?"he said mockingly

Jaden's eyes flicked up, sharp and piercing. Slowly, he rose from his seat, the dim light revealing a face so striking it demanded attention—handsome and terrifying all at once.

"Bring the woman," Jaden commanded, voice steady but heavy with authority. "And the boy."

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and strode from the room, the echo of his footsteps swallowing the tension behind him.

The guards and men inside the room let out a collective sigh of relief, but they wasted no time and hurried to follow.

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