Chapter 22 HELP

Chapter 22 HELP
DOMINIC

“I know you used to love her,” she says calmly. “There’s nothing wrong with picking things up from where you both stopped.”

“What are you even talking about?” I throw a hand into the air, frustration spiking again inside me. “We never dated. And there’s no way I’m agreeing to this especially when she doesn’t even know you’re plotting a date for her behind her back.”

She doesn’t argue. She simply walks over, sits down, and crosses her legs, looking entirely too comfortable. Like someone who already planned the ending.

“What if I told you Violet wants this too?” she says evenly. “Everyone knows you don’t even understand your own feelings, let alone someone else’s. So I helped you both. I talked to her. She agreed.”

I let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “So you both planned a date without even asking me?”

“What exactly do you want, Dominic?” she snaps.

She’s on her feet now, anger flashing across her face.

“You already have her consent. What more do you want?” she demands. “I don’t want my son dying alone. Do you understand that?”

She steps closer, her finger snapping up in front of my face.

“You think being the richest, most desirable bachelor in town is enough?” she continues harshly. “Even with all that, you still don’t have a woman in your life. And I’m scared… scared you’ll grow old without a family of your own. I will not stand by and watch that happen.”

With that, she turns and starts up the stairs.

“You do realize forcing someone I don’t love on me doesn’t mean I’ll marry her, right?” I call after her.

She doesn’t stop. She doesn’t answer. She just continue walking. And just like that, she’s gone.


GRACE

“Okay, everyone, that’s it for today!” I clap my hands together and drop the empty pizza cartons onto the table.

Today’s shoot has been exhausting. Hectic doesn’t even begin to cover it. I didn’t even get time to eat properly, so we ended up ordering pizza.

“Can I still have one more slice?” Eden asks from his desk.

I frown at him. Honestly, after everything he went through today, he should be the last person still thinking about food. The guy practically lived in the restroom, at least five trips. I still don’t know how he survived the shoot.

“I’m starving,” he adds.

“Then get yourself something else to eat, Eden,” I say with a small smile.

I turn to the others. “Alright, girls,” I say, walking toward the dressing stand. “Let’s make it two p.m. for tomorrow’s shoot.”

They all nod, smiling, and slowly filter out.

Once I’m alone, I collapse into the chair beside me. Ria took a whole week off to visit her grandmother in the countryside, so I’ve been handling everything on my own.

But I know it’s not just the break.

She’s still upset with me for keeping the truth from her. And now she’s been avoiding me completely.

I eventually push myself up and grab my car keys. Just as I step outside, Nick’s name flashes on my screen.

Typical Nick. He never knows when to stop.

I ignore the call, park my car in my driveway, and head inside.

Home. Finally.

My first priority now is a long shower. Today drained everything out of me.

I toss the packaged food into the microwave, then head straight to the bathroom, already peeling off my clothes.

I turn on the heater and head to the bathroom, letting the water run.

I’ll just sit for a minute but I barely get to when Nick’s text pops up on my phone.

Nick: Are you home?

I don’t reply. I drop the phone on the table and sink into the chair instead, closing my eyes just to breathe.

Just for a second.

My eyes snap open as a sharp burn claws at my throat. I cough once, then again, harder this time, jerking up in my feet in panic.

“Oh my God…”

The room is filled with thick, choking smoke.

What did I do?

My mind goes straight to the microwave.

My eyes sting as I stumble toward the kitchen, coughing so hard my chest hurts. The smoke gets worse with every step.

How is there this much smoke?

My vision blurs as I stumble into the kitchen. The smell hits me immediately—burnt plastic, wiring, something overheated.

I check quickly. The microwave is still on. It’s probably the wire or something.

Smoke pours from the vents, curling up toward the ceiling.

My hands shake as I try to reach for the plug… But the smoke grows thicker, swallowing the room. My head starts spinning violently.

The second I open the microwave, I gasp for air, my legs suddenly weak.

I need to call someone. My brain screams but… the world tilts.

“Someone, help.” I choke out even though I'm scared that it's useless right now.

I barely feel myself sinking to the floor before everything fades to black.