Chapter 173: Narrow escape

Zara's POV

The motel room smelled like dust and stale cigarettes.

I hated it.

The walls were stained, the mattress was lumpy, the television barely worked.Everything about the place screamed temporary.

Which was fitting.

Because my entire life had become temporary.

I sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling endlessly through my phone.

The internet never slept.

Neither did the people on it.

Every day there was a new article.

A new discussion.

A new opinion.

And lately…

The opinions weren’t going my way.

I clenched my jaw.

A headline stared back at me.

AARON BOURNE BREAKS SILENCE.

Another one.

ACTOR TAKES FULL RESPONSIBILITY FOR SCANDAL.

Then another.

PUBLIC REACTION SHIFTS FOLLOWING EXPLOSIVE INTERVIEW.

I threw the phone across the room.

It slammed against the wall before landing on the floor.

“Idiot!”

My voice echoed through the tiny room.

Aaron had ruined everything.Months.Months of careful planning.Months of manipulation.Months of carefully controlling the narrative. All destroyed by one interview.

One stupid interview.

I buried my face in my hands.And for  the first time in a long time, I felt truly exhausted—not just in my body but in my soul.There was only so much hate a person could carry before it started poisoning them.

And I had been carrying hate for years.

I thought it would make me stronger.

I thought revenge would make me feel better.

I thought watching Sarah suffer would heal something inside me.

Instead…

I felt emptier than ever.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

I immediately stiffened.Fear rushed through me.

Nobody knew where I was. Nobody.

Another knock.

My heart pounded. Slowly, carefully, I moved toward the door.

I crept to the door and peered through the peephole. The motel manager—an older woman with tired eyes—stood outside.

I exhaled.Opening the door halfway.

“What?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “You need to pay for another week.” She paused. “Also… some people have been asking questions. Police. They showed your picture.”

My stomach plummeted. Real fear—cold and sharp—flooded me.

I slammed the door shut and locked it, then rushed to the window, peering through the grimy curtains. My breathing turned ragged.

They were closing in.

For months I had convinced myself I was untouchable. Smarter. Always three steps ahead. But maybe I had simply run out of places to hide.

“No.”

She shrugged.

“They showed your picture.”

Fear exploded inside me.

Real fear.

I sank back onto the bed. My hands trembled as I opened my photo gallery. Thousands of images. Old family photos. Vacations. Birthdays.

My thumb stopped on one.

Dad and me. Years ago. Before everything shattered. Before Aaron. Before the baby. Before the hatred consumed me. Just the two of us, smiling under bright sunlight.

I missed him.God, I missed him.

And suddenly…

I couldn’t remember the last time I had allowed myself to admit that.

I stared at it until my eyes burned. “Dad…” My voice cracked. The grief I had buried beneath layers of jealousy and rage rose up, choking me.

A sob tore free. Then another. Soon I was crying so hard my chest heaved, the room blurring around me.

Maybe none of this had ever truly been about Aaron or Sarah or the baby. Maybe it had started the day we lost Dad. Maybe I had spent years blaming Sarah because facing my own pain was too terrifying.

I looked at my reflection in the dark television screen—messy hair, red-rimmed eyes, a fugitive staring back.

A woman hiding in a cheap motel.

This wasn’t who I wanted to become.This wasn’t who I used to be.

A new notification lit up my phone. I clicked it automatically.

Sarah. Holding Kendrick. Smiling softly. Aaron stood beside them, not touching her, but gazing at them both with quiet reverence. Like they were home.

The familiar jealousy stirred… then slowly, painfully, faded.

They loved each other. Maybe they always had. And no amount of fighting, manipulating, or destroying could force someone to love me the way I desperately needed.

A fresh tear slipped down my cheek. I wiped it away.

Distant sirens wailed somewhere outside. My head snapped up. They were close. Too close.

I stood quickly, grabbing my bag, passport, and the last of my cash. No more hiding in place. If I wanted freedom, I had to disappear completely.

I glanced around the miserable room one final time, then picked up my phone. My thumb hovered over Sarah’s number for several long seconds.

Not because she deserved it. Not because she would ever forgive me.

But because, for the first time, I didn’t want the last thing I left behind to be pure hate.

I typed the message and hit send.

Then I powered off the phone, dropped it on the bed, and walked out the door without looking back.

Somewhere behind me, the sirens grew louder.

By the time they reached the motel, I was already gone.

Again.