Desired by All and He Threw Away 54

Taylor’s POV 

My phone wont stop vibrating.it buzzes against the nightstand like its alive- desperate insistent. refusing to let me sleep. 

for a moment i just lie there, disoriented.the ceiling above me is high and white the kind that looks too polished to belong to anything real.a faint city hum seeps through the floor to ceiling windows and soft light spills across the marble floor. 

my heart kicks once hard.where am i? 

i push up onto my elbows blinking at the sleek furniture the untouched vase of roses on the counter the ridiculous view of downtown glittering below. 

Then it clicks. The penthouse. Aiden’s penthouse–the one he insisted I stay in until this fake relationship runs 

its course. 

reality slams back in with the next buzz.i reach for my phone my fingers brushing against the cool glass screen hesitating before i finally pick it up. 

My phone screen is lighting up like a storm.Notifications blur together–post, mentions, reels stacking faster than I can process. 

And then I see it. 

A photo. 

my chest tightens as i stare.Aiden’s arm around me his body angled just enough to shield me from the chaos.his head is bent slightly toward mine. 

his expression unreadable but protective.the light from the streetlamps casts a soft glow across his face catching the tension in his jaw the curve of his mouth. 

and me half hidden behind him my features blurred just a glimpse of my hair my shoulder the faint tilt of my 

head. 

But somehow, the image looks… intimate. 

Like we’re in our own world. 

the caption reads: “Aiden kincaid spotted shielding his mystery girlfriend last night romance is in the air? 

#AidenMysteryGirlfriend #ProtectiveAiden #NewPowerCouple” 

i scroll further my pulse picking up speed.every major gossip site entertainment page,and fan account has picked it up.My feed is flooded–photos, slowed–down clips, endless theories. 

Some have drawn red circles and arrows like it’s a crime scene, speculating who the girl might be. 

In each picture, Aiden looks effortlessly composed, like the chaos doesn’t touch him. His arm is still around me in every frame, that same stance–protective, deliberate. 

1/3 

Chapter 54 

+25 Bonus 

The angle hides my face perfectly, but somehow it doesn’t matter. The mystery makes it worse. 

“Who is she?” 

“They look so in love.” 

“She’s glowing. You can feel the chemistry.” 

“who ever she is she is the woman who tamed Aiden kincaid.” 

i swipe through the comments each one louder than the last.Hearts, fire emojis, entire threads dedicated to analyzing our supposed “relationship timeline.” 

my stomach knots.it is so surreal how the world has taken a few seconds of something fake and turned it into a fairytale.They’ve written a love story out of smoke and camera flashes. 

They have no idea. 

Because what they’re calling romantic was never real. 

except … my fingers tighten around the phone and warmth flickers beneath my skin.it is ridiculous but a small traitorous part of me cant help it.the way he looked at me last night the way he kissed me it did not feel fake.not even for a second. 

Another alert pings. Then another. 

TRENDING #1: Aiden Stone’s Mystery Girlfriend 

TRENDING #2: #ProtectiveAiden 

TRENDING #3: #NewPowerCouple 

The headlines flash by faster than I can read. “Aiden Stone Finally Off the Market?” “Who is the Girl Who Stole His Heart?” “The Intimate Moment That Broke the Internet.” 

my reflection stares back at me from the dark screen my wide eyes hair messy the confusion and disbelief all tangled together. 

“unbelievable,” i whisper voice rough with sleep. 

The phone buzzes again, lighting up with a message from Ella: 

E: omg taylor are you SEEING THIS?? Aiden and mystery girlfriend is literally everywhere. 

The drama from before Ella’s outburst, Dylan’s scandal and arrogance–it’s suddenly invisible. Buried. The headlines that had been eating them alive pass weeks have all shifted overnight. 

I scroll and see it happening in real time: “Ella’s Meltdown” replaced with “Aiden’s Mystery Woman.” 

The media machine has a new obsession. And it’s me. 

i toss the phone onto the bed my pulse still racing.my coffee sits untouched on the nightstand the air thick with the scent of vanilla creamer and nerves. 

2/3