***"I used to recognize myself***
***It's funny how reflections change***
***When we're becoming something else***
***I think it's time to walk away"*** *\- James Bay*
*Holden Young*
The wind didn’t feel gentle, not when I was speeding on the motorcycle so fast that cars flashed past me like streaks of light. I’d left Michael sorting his things at the hotel, ignoring the worry on his face as I bolted out like a storm.
My phone vibrated incessantly in my pocket as if the apocalypse were about to begin, all because the universe decided to test my resilience over the past few days.
I was radiant. I hadn’t been this happy in years. Being with Alissa gave me a sense of fulfillment and completeness I hadn’t felt in ages. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I didn’t feel alone. Yet she kept slipping through my fingers, no matter how hard I tried to hold onto her.
I’d tried so hard that I’d worn myself out. I put my career on the back burner to have her close, but now all I could see was how easy it seemed for her to pull away.
Maybe Michael was right. Maybe even Cyrus was right. I didn’t blame her; I couldn’t. Not after seeing everything she went through as a girl. But now we were adults, and she had a choice. She could stay, and wait for me while I finished this tour, and then we could finally have some peace after months of living in chaos.
But now, once again, I was alone—dealing with the displeasure of public life and the reality of being controlled by people far more powerful than I was. I couldn’t understand why there wasn’t a separation. Living my dream shouldn’t feel like a prison sentence, but the last thing I ever did was live on my own terms.
I parked the motorcycle behind the building and went straight up through the service elevator. I didn’t want to smile at the doorman or hear unnecessary flattery. I was so furious I didn’t even know how I made it to my apartment intact.
When I opened the door, the loud bang against the wall startled everyone inside.
Cyrus was the first to get up, walking toward me with a glass of whiskey extended in his hand.
I ignored him, heading straight for him instead. I knew this was all part of their plan to keep me on a short leash.
“What the hell did you do?” I asked, breathing heavily, the smell of cigars and alcohol hitting me.
Denver let out a low laugh and walked toward me, his crescent-shaped eyes cynical and devoid of patience.
“We are your parents, Holden Young.” The way he said my name carried unmistakable disdain. “Don’t treat us like strangers, because we’re not.”
I ran my hands through my hair, resisting the urge to pull it all out. “You can’t interfere with my career. This is crossing the line!” I shouted.
Cyrus had a desperate look on his face as if he wanted to explain things, but there was nothing to explain. My mother was seated near Cyrus, watching everything with an unreadable expression.
“Oh, we can,” my father declared confidently. “Do you know why we can, Holden? Because without my money, you’d still be auditioning for those ridiculous reality shows.”
I stared at him intently, observing the man who now seemed like a stranger. “What are you talking about?” I asked, incredulous. “What’s going on, Cyrus?”
My manager scratched his head before looking at me, his expression practically screaming I’m sorry. “Listen to him, kid. We’re not trying to hurt you,” he said as if any of this was supposed to be good for me.
“Holden, my sweet,” my mother began, her voice smooth as silk. “You need to understand that we’ve always done everything to ensure your success, even if you chose art over business, unlike the rest of the family.” She came closer, close enough to touch my face. Her cold hand, which held her drink, matched her false personality. “Your father wants to see you lead, no matter the field. You’ll excel in everything you do, and while you have great talent, you know that in the real world, money is our fuel.” The smile on her face as she spoke sounded almost proud of those words.
I felt sick. I walked to the couch in disbelief. I knew things could be manipulated—I wasn’t completely naive or stupid. But I never imagined it was this dirty.
“So you paid for it? For the victory on the show, for the tour?” Cyrus stepped forward, maybe trying to contain the damage.
“The tour is your merit, Holden.” He knelt in front of me, concern written all over his usually stoic face. “Consider them investors, that’s all.”
Investors. This had to be a joke.
“So this is the plan?” I said, the bitterness of my words caught in my throat. “You’re going to control everything, even my personal life?”
“This is the best choice for you, darling,” my mother chimed in. And when she spoke, that’s when I saw her coming out of another room. Chloe—my tour partner. Suddenly, everything made sense.
“Everyone wins with this,” my father said, raising his hands, pleased as if he’d just won an award. “She benefits from your visibility, and you... well, you get rid of that inconvenient problem tarnishing your image, keeping you out of the tabloids. It’s the perfect plan. You and Chloe, music’s golden couple.”
I rolled my eyes at the absurdity of it all. I looked at the girl, who seemed cornered, and wondered how much she had agreed to be part of this circus. This moment couldn’t get any worse. Alissa—what would she think? After an argument, seeing me with another woman splashed all over the media? This was worse than I could have ever predicted, and when Michael found out, he’d understand why I left in such a hurry.
I needed to see her. I needed to explain this. I just didn’t know if she’d want to hear me.
I left the apartment in a rush, leaving them there without any explanation. I used the little time I had left wisely, racing to her.
I reached her apartment in minutes, earning myself a few speeding tickets after tonight. I climbed the stairs in a hurry, only to be surprised when I saw the door slightly ajar. I pushed it open and called her name, but no one answered. I saw everything clean, no books on the coffee table, and the closets open. It looked like an organized chaos, but what caught my attention was the absence of clothes. Everything was... empty.
And then I remembered Michael’s words. *Maybe she’s the kind of person who leaves when things get complicated*. Looking at the empty apartment, I was sure of it.