Desired by All and He Threw Away 127

“I’ll cover whatever you lose. Double it.” He said it like the simplest solution. A transaction to erase a problem. 

The trickle turned to ice. I set my mug down. The clink was too loud. “It’s not about the money.” 

“Then what’s it about?” Aiden uncrossed his arms, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s the safest option. Vanessa will be circling. Media might stake the place out. It’s a minefield.” 

“I need to do my job.” My voice was quiet, firm. “It’s my job. It’s the one thing that’s still mine. I can’t hide because things got messy.” 

“It’s not hiding. It’s being smart. It’s letting me handle it.” 

Letting me handle it. The words scraped a raw, familiar place. The place that fought to never depend, to never give anyone that control. 

“Handle it?” The edge was back in my voice. “By locking me away?” 

Aiden’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “That’s not what I’m doing.” 

“It feels like it.” I took a step back. The kitchen felt cramped. “You say ‘let me handle it,‘ and you make the decisions. You control the narrative. You control where I go.” 

“I’m trying to protect you!” The words came out sharper. I saw the flicker in his eyes, the tight lips. He didn’t take them back. 

“I don’t need protection from my own life, Aiden. I need to live it.” The fear was there–a knot under my ribs. Fear of gossip, of Vanessa, of backlash. But a fiercer part rebelled against retreat. Against the gilded cage. 

“This isn’t about control,” Aiden said, voice dropping, trying to reel it in. “This is about the fact that I… care. When I see a threat, my instinct is to eliminate it. To stand between it and you.” 

“I know.” And I did. I saw the concern in the lines around his eyes. The protector. The strategist. The man who carried all weight as duty. “But your instinct can’t be to eliminate every difficult part of my life. My work is difficult. My family is difficult. I’m difficult. You can’t… handle all of that for me.” 

The word difficult hung between us. Aiden flinched internally. Looked away, profile hard. 

The argument didn’t explode. It simmered, hot and unresolved, sinking into the fragile ground between us. The first crack. His need to shield. My need to stand in the storm. 

The silence was thick, charged. This was the real test. Not the fake dating, but this. This negotiation of space and self. 

I was about to speak–to soften it–when my phone on the counter exploded. 

Not a ring. A relentless, vibrating buzz. Once, twice, continuously. The screen lit up: unknown numbers, social media tags, direct messages. 

My blood went cold. I looked at Aiden. 

Aiden’s gaze snapped to the phone. All softness gone. Replaced by cold, focused alertness. 

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Chapter 127 

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He reached for it before I could. Scanned the screen. His jaw tightened with each second. The room temperature seemed to drop. 

“What is it?” My voice was thin. 

Aiden didn’t answer. Tapped the screen. His expression turned to stone. Slowly, he turned the phone to face me. 

A headline. A blurred, old photo of me–tired, young, leaving a rundown gym. The title screamed: 

FROM THE SHADOWS: THE TROUBLED PAST OF AIDEN’S “CINDERELLA” 

Below it: … financial struggles, a family shrouded in mystery, questions about her real qualifications… Sources whisper she’s not the innocent physio she appears… 

The world tilted. The kitchen, the sunlight, the lingering warmth–all vanished, swallowed by pixelated cruelty. 

Dylan’s next move wasn’t to prove our relationship fake. 

It was to prove I was fake. 

Aiden’s eyes met mine over the glowing screen. Protective fury burned in them. But beneath it, I saw my own reflection–pale, stunned, the happiness of an hour ago already a distant, foolish dream. 

The storm wasn’t coming. 

It was here. 

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