***Holden Young***
I tried to look confident the moment I stepped into that place. Gripping the strap of my shoulder bag tightly, I walked with steady steps, making sure no one could tell how nervous I was.
The place was warm and inviting, decorated in shades of beige and brown, reminiscent of an upscale café. But the idea of sitting down for a pleasant meal with them was impossible. Every bit of my energy, every ounce of my will to smile and move forward, disappeared when I thought about the words I had spoken to Alissa in that apartment. About everything she had been through—things I still didn’t fully know because she hadn’t had the courage to tell me.
It was still hard to wrap my head around it. How could they haven’t dared to be young would somehow ruin my chances at success? As if money couldn’t fix everything.
I glanced around at the empty tables before spotting them sitting in one of the more secluded corners of the café. My mother looked as polished as ever—her medium blonde hair styled into soft waves cut into a sleek long bob.
On the other hand, my father was in his usual understated suit—charcoal gray with a neatly pressed white shirt underneath. He sat with one leg crossed over the other, flipping through an economy newspaper with practiced indifference.
Their posture was the same as always—serious, composed, and unshakable.
Growing up, I often felt like I didn’t belong in their world. Despite the affection I had received, I admired them too much. They radiated a kind of effortless perfection that I could never quite live up to. But now, at twenty-three, I was starting to see my entire life for what it really was—one big performance.
I didn’t greet them when I sat down. Instead, I kept my gaze on the rings on my fingers, focusing on them to avoid being pinned under their judgmental stares.
“So, that’s it? You’re just leaving without saying anything?” My mother was the first to speak.
“You hid important things from me. I think my coldness is justified.” I was direct.
My father let out a sharp breath, shaking his head.
“You’re being dramatic, Holden. Everything we did was for your good.”
Oh, of course. I was the problem here.
I let out a humorless chuckle.
“That’s hilarious, Dad! You manipulated that girl, lied to me, and bribed that program. But since it was for my good, I guess I’m just supposed to swallow it and move on, right?”
My mother sighed like she was exhausted from having to deal with me. The feeling was mutual.
“Holden, you’re young. You don’t see things the way we do.”
“And you don’t understand anything about me. You never have. And honestly? I don’t want you to anymore.” My patience was wearing thin.
The silence that followed was painful but necessary. My mother finally looked away, and my father simply shook his head and returned to his newspaper, as if the conversation had already ended.
I exhaled, leaning forward slightly.
“I’m going to handle things on my own from now on. I want you to know that.” My voice was steady. “No more interference. No more control. No more manipulation. I spoke to Cyrus—I forced him to tell me everything. From now on, I’ll be overseeing every single detail of my career, right down to the things the staff used to handle. I’ll be watching everything closely. Just to make sure I never make the mistake of trusting him—or either of you—again.”
“Fair enough,” my father said, surprising me. “It’s about time you acted like a man.”
My mother shot him a sharp look, gripping his arm in disapproval. But that kind of comment never bothered me. My masculinity wasn’t fragile like his.
She simply gave me a small nod, a hint of sadness in her expression. I nodded back, then stood up and walked away without saying goodbye.
...
At the airport, Chloe stood near the team, surrounded by makeup artists fussing over her appearance like she was a damn movie star. Over the top, if you asked me.
The moment she spotted me, she flashed a bright, eager smile. I just nodded in acknowledgment. I didn’t have the energy for anything more, knowing how much time we’d have to spend together.
On the jet, she took the seat next to mine. The moment we were in the air, she wasted no time trying to start a conversation.
“Last night was great, wasn’t it?” she asked, shoving her phone in my face. On the screen, headlines with our photos together were plastered across gossip sites.
“We did our job.” My tone was flat, unapologetic. I turned back to the window, hoping that would be the end of it.
She let out a small laugh, but I could hear the frustration behind it.
“Are you always this… enthusiastic?”
I sighed, finally turning to look at her. I knew she was just trying to ease the tension, but I wasn’t in the mood. I didn’t understand why she couldn’t just stick to the public appearances and leave it at that.
“Chloe, I get what you’re trying to do here. But this is complicated, okay?” I tried to soften my tone, but I didn’t know if it worked.
She studied me for a moment, her practiced smile fading into something more irritated.
“You don’t have to be so cold with me, you know?”
I rolled my eyes, making no effort to hide my exhaustion.
“I’m not being cold. I’m just being honest.”
She hesitated like she wanted to say something else, but then gave up. Instead, she turned back to her tablet, finally ignoring me—just like I had wanted from the start.
The tension between us thickened, but I barely cared. My mind was somewhere else. With someone else.
Alissa Blake.
I thought about her constantly. About how she left without saying goodbye. About what my parents had done. About the questions that still haunted me.
And now, staring out the jet window as the city lights grew smaller and smaller, I realized I had left behind far more than just a place.