Alicia's POV
"What? I'm… on the news?"
Not once in my life did I imagine my name would appear in an article. A broken girl who spent most of her life hidden away in a cupboard was now suddenly thrown into the spotlight.
I blinked at the photo of Anthony and me, frozen for a moment, then scrolled down with trembling fingers. The article praised the renowned billionaire engaged to a mysterious woman—but that wasn't what made my chest tighten.
It was the comments.
And most of them were aimed at me.
"What is this? Why am I getting so much blackshah?", I whispered, my voice dry.
Each word stabbed a little deeper.
Who is she?
Why is Anthony holding such a pale woman?
My heart began to pound. Still, instead of locking my phone or looking away, I kept scrolling—devouring every cruel comment like I deserved them.
There were hardly any kind ones.
Most of the comments were from women. Of course they were—I wasn't surprised. Anthony was handsome, with jet-black hair that flowed past his collar and deep, stormy grey eyes. Who wouldn't be mesmerized?
Even I was.
And then there was me. Pale skin. Pale blonde hair. Standing beside him like someone who didn't belong in his world.
Suddenly, my phone rang, slicing through the noise of the online chaos.
What?
Dad?
I froze, staring at the screen. My throat tightened. Why was he calling me now? He'd never cared. Not once. So why now?
My fingers trembled as I slid my thumb over the screen.
"Hello?"
His voice slammed into me—raw and furious.
"You worthless child."
I blinked at the open window. Sun light spilled through, golden and warm, and I hadn't even noticed.
"You dare show your face to the media?" he growled.
I inhaled sharply. I had never stood up to him—not once.
But right now, as I did, my voice trembled.
"What did you expect after introducing me to this world?"
Did he think Anthony would just keep me locked in a room forever?
"Don't forget I gave you that position!" he snapped.
"What now, huh?" My voice rose, sharp with pain, but I didn't care. Tears streamed down my cheeks.
"What do you want me to do? Why blame me for everything? Why?"
"Keep quiet, Alicia."
"Dad!"
But he wasn't listening. He never did.
"Keep your face out of the media, Alicia," he barked. "If anyone digs into you, they'll find out about me."
I let out a bitter scoff.
"Of course. It's about you. It's always about you." I shook my head, voice cold now.
"Well, if any of what you've done comes to light, maybe you deserve it."
"Not only will I be ruined, but you as well. Do you understand?" he roared.
I yanked the phone away from my ear.
Since when did he ever care what happened to me?
"Goodbye, Dad."
I ended the call and leaned back against the door, chest heaving, hands shaking.
Huh… The tears came harder, and my body began to tremble. I pushed myself away from the door and walked slowly toward the bed.
"Dear Lord…" I whispered, staring out at the open sky through the window.
Just then, the door creaked open.
Anthony stepped in.
"Alicia… I—"
I turned to face him. The moment he saw my tears, he paused. His brow creased.
He looked effortlessly elegant in a blue button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. I sniffed, trying to hold myself together. His eyes were still cold—distant. I knew he didn't like tears.
But still… I'd hoped for comfort.
Something.
He cleared his throat, then held out a credit card.
"Here. Go get whatever it is you want."
I stared at it. My chest tightened.
He knew. He had seen the news.
"You can't buy silence," I said, voice low but firm.
He didn't flinch.
"Well, this is the only thing I can do for you."
When he saw that I hadn't moved from the bed—or shown the slightest interest—Anthony placed the card gently on the mattress beside me, then turned and began to walk out.
But something in me snapped.
With a rage I didn't even know I had, I jumped to my feet and shouted, "Why are you so cold? Why are you making my life even harder?"
Anthony stopped mid-step. He turned slowly. "Excuse me?"
"I know you don't do love. You made that very clear and I get it," I said, voice trembling. "But you could've at least stopped pretending to care."
He gave a low, bitter chuckle—one that never reached his eyes.
"Miss Adams, you must be mistaken to think I ever did."
"No," I said, shaking my head as I took a step toward him.
"I know you're not that heartless. You care about me—or else you wouldn't have come in here to see how I'm handling the news."
He glared at me, but I didn't back down. I stepped closer—slowly, deliberately—my eyes locked on his.
"Admit it, Anthony."
I stopped just inches from him. I could hear the faint, unsteady beat of his heart.
"Admit that you care."
"I won't," he said flatly. "Because I don't."
I shook my head, refusing to believe him.
"You're lying. On the balcony—"
"We're not talking about the balcony," he snapped, stepping back.
"Go shopping, Alicia. And forget any of this happened."
Then he turned and walked out.
And just like that, my heart broke even more.
I staggered slightly, my head pounding with a fierce, dull ache. Still, I forced my feet toward the door.
Voices drifted in from the hallway—Anthony's.
He was speaking to someone on the phone, his voice low and clipped. I waited until I heard the call end and his footsteps fade down the corridor. Only then did I step out.
His room was directly across from mine.
I walked toward it slowly, hesitating outside the door. The hallway was quiet, and I heard no sound from within.
From the way he'd spoken on the phone, it sounded like he had left in a hurry.
Maybe this is wrong, I told myself. Just go back to your room.
But instead, I reached for the doorknob—
And pushed my way in.