Desired by All and He Threw Away 33

my pulse quickens. i can almost feel the heat of anger rising beneath my skin. “Unbelievable,” I mutter. “They just buy whatever that lying scum says. No one even questions it.” 

Aiden doesn’t respond.he just stares past me expression unreadable like hes watching something crumble inside his head. 

“Aiden…” i whisper his name wanting to reach for him but the distance between us suddenly feels wider than itshould. 

he exhales slowly gaze flicking back to the untouched plate of eggs “he is doing exactly what I would do if i were desperate,” he says flatly. “Flip the story before it flips you.” 

There’s is not much anger in his tone–just a cold, quiet resignation. The kind that settles in after too many wars fought alone. 

i cant stand it. i pick up my phone again scrolling past the chaos in the comments my thumb moving with frantic precision. ” there has to be something- some kind of proof or statement from the girl –” 

But when i type Alice into the search bar her profile doesn’t appear frown. 

Blocked. 

“What?” I whisper, refreshing the page twice, three times. Nothing. “She blocked me.” 

“Blocked you?” Aiden asks, voice low but sharp with disbelief. 

“Yeah.” I swallow, pulse skittering. “Wait–hang on.” My fingers ly across the screen, opening a new tab. I scroll past fake accounts and gossip pages until a new link catches my eye. 

– 

AliceRose OnlyFans. 

the profile picture hits like a punch to the gut.Alice, lips parted eyes glazed in that practiced kind of innocence that isnt innocent at all the caption below reads: 

“When fame knocks, open the door.” 

my stomach turns as i click the page.There she is again- in curate suggestive poses her captions sprinkled with half truths and insinuations.And then I see it–her latest post. 

“Aiden tried to reach out. Begging me to tell a lie on Dylan. Funny How they pretend to be heroes in public.” 

The comments are flooded with followers cheering her on, calling her brave, telling her she deserves “everything coming her way.” Her subscriber count ticks upward in real–time–hundreds by the minute. 

I sit back, heart pounding. “Oh my god…” 

Aiden’s eyes flick up to me. “What is it?” 

i turn the phone toward him though part of me wishes i hadnt His expression doesnt change at first—just this slow almost imperceptible tightening around his eyes.then like someone pulled a thread loose the stillness breaks. 

“so thats it,” he murmurs voice dangerously calm. “she is turning t into a business.” 

“Its not even about the truth anymore,” i whisper the words trembling. “It’s about fame.the traffic, the attention- its all that matters to her now.” 

he lets out a hollow laugh rubbing a hand down his face. “welcome to the game Taylor. It’s never about truth. It’s about who plays it better.” 

the kitchen feels smaller suddenly the air heavier.outside a delivery truck rumbles down the street the ordinary sound clashing against the chaos tightening around us.i can still smell the faint sweetness of toast and butter but it feels wrong now too normal for the kind of storm that gathering. 

Aiden stands pushing his chair back slowly.the scrape of wood against tile cuts through the silence.he doesnt look at me when he speaks. 

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Chapter 33 

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“we will deal with it,” he says. “get ready we are going back to the city.” 

i watch him walk toward the living room shoulders squared but heavy.for a moment i just sit there staring at the phone in my hands- the glow of the screen reflecting against the surface of the table like a warning light. 

Dylan face is still frozen mid frame that rehearsed look of remorse etched perfectly across his features.a performance so clean it almost feels real. 

The comments keep rolling in. Likes. Shares. Hashtags. 

and beneath it all the truth- drowned buried forgotten under the weight of clicks and sympathy. 

i set the phone down, the wood cool beneath my fingertips.the world outside feels too bright for whats unraveling inside me. 

for the first time in weeks i cant find the words to fix it. 

the only sound left is the soft tick of the kitchen clock marking each second that Dylans lies take deeper root. 

and somewhere between the silence and the truth ifeel the weight of it settle in my chest- fame has always been louder than justice., 

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