Chapter 150 150. The New Post
"What do you want for breakfast?"
Standing in front of the open refrigerator, I stared at the shelves packed with food. Eggs. Bacon. Yogurt. Fruit. Bread. Cheese. My hand hovered over the eggs, then moved to the yogurt, then back to the eggs.
"Fiera?"
"I don't know. There's just so much. I can't pick."
Lucien appeared behind me, gently closing the refrigerator door.
"How about I make you pancakes?"
"Okay. Yes. Pancakes sound good."
He guided me to the kitchen island, settling me on a stool while he moved through the kitchen measuring flour, pouring milk, whisking batter. Watching him was soothing in a way I couldn't quite explain.
"We should go on a walk today, what do you think?"
My chest tightened. "Outside?"
"Yeah, fresh air. You must miss your favorite coffee shop." He glanced over his shoulder.
"Yes, no, I want to. I just..." I picked at the hem of his shirt I was wearing. "One thing I haven't talked about yet... what if people recognize me from the news?"
"They'll recognize you, and they'll stare." He flipped a pancake with ease. "But you've served your time, Fiera. You have nothing left to prove to anyone."
"Easier said than done."
"Most worthwhile things are." He plated the pancakes and set them in front of me, the smell alone making my mouth water. "Besides, I'll be right there with you. Anyone gives you trouble, they answer to me."
The coffee shop was the same as it looked months ago when I still lived in this area. Lucien drove from the penthouse to my old apartment, and then we walked from my apartment. His thumb stroked circles on my palm whenever I tensed at the sight of too many people.
Inside smelled like roasted beans and cinnamon. The barista looked up with a smile. "Good morning! What can I get you?"
My mind went completely blank. Coffee. I wanted coffee. But the menu board behind her had at least twenty options. Latte. Cappuccino. Americano. Macchiato. Cold brew. Flavored. Unflavored. Hot. Iced.
"Um..." I stuttered.
"I'll have a large black coffee," Lucien said. "And my fiancée will have a vanilla latte. Extra vanilla, light foam."
"Actually—" I started, then stopped. That did sound good. "Yes. That. Please."
Lucien paid and we found a corner table by the window.
"Thanks for helping with my order."
He swiped his thumb along my lower lip.
"It's overwhelming, I know. But I'm here for you. This is real, and you are gonna enjoy every moment of it."
Four days later, I'd stopped flinching every time a door closed. By day five, I could pick out my own breakfast without freezing. By day six, I'd walked six blocks to the bookstore by myself while Lucien waited in a coffee shop, trusting me to come back.
On day seven, over scrambled eggs and toast, he asked the question.
"Want to come to Hayes Corp with me today?"
"To your office?"
"Yeah, I've got six meetings today so I have to go in. It'd be less tiring with you beside me."
"Aye, aye captain! Take me to your kingdom."
Just like the coffee shop and my favorite book shop, Hayes Corp hadn't changed much except for the massive christmas tree Inside the lobby, decorated in silver and gold.
"Didn't know you guys decorate during Christmas," I murmured.
"We don't. Rafael insisted this time. Said it boosts morale or some shit. Personally, I think he just likes shiny things."
A woman in a sharp blazer approached from the side. "Good morning, Mr. Hayes." Her eyes shifted to me with a professional smile. "Good morning, ma'am."
"Patricia." Lucien nodded. "Ready for a great week?"
"As ready as one can be for a Monday, sir. And you?"
Lucien raised our interlocked hands, the engagement ring catching the overhead lights.
"My fiancée is by my side, so yeah, I'd say I'm more than ready."
Patricia's smile widened. "Congratulations to you both. Have a wonderful day."
We continued toward the elevators. A group of junior executives passed in the opposite direction, their eyes widening slightly when they spotted Lucien. They bowed their heads in respectful greeting.
Lucien acknowledged them with small nods. The Lucien I met over a year ago would have walked past without a glance.
The elevator doors opened and a young man stepped out, nearly colliding with us. His face went red.
"Mr. Hayes, I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking—"
"James, right?" Lucien's voice held no irritation. "Congratulations on the promotion. I heard Patterson finally gave you the senior analyst position."
"Thank you, boss." James's surprise was evident. "I really appreciate the opportunity."
"Erm, this is Camila Aveline Sterling. You can call me Camila Aveline Sterling's fiancé." Lucien gestured toward me with a small smirk.
I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. James looked thoroughly confused but managed a polite goodbye before hurrying off.
"You're in a mood today," I said as we stepped into the elevator.
"I'm always in a good mood when you're around."
The view from his office was still breathtaking, the city spread out below like a kingdom waiting to be ruled.
"Make yourself comfortable," he loosened his tie and heading for the couch in the corner. "I've got some contracts to review, but I'll be right here if you need anything."
"Why aren't you sitting at your desk?"
"Because you are." He settled onto the couch with his laptop and a stack of papers. "CEO's chair is all yours, Fiera."
Walking around the massive mahogany desk felt surreal. I spun the leather chair once, twice, feeling like a child playing pretend.
"Good morning, Mr. Hayes," I mimicked in an exaggerated professional voice.
He raised a brow. "Yes, Ms. Sterling?"
"If only they knew how their big, mighty boss was on his knees just hours ago." I leaned back in the chair, crossing my legs. "Licking my pussy clean like his life depended on it."
"Fiera." His voice dropped to that dangerous register. "Don't start something you can't finish."
"Who says I can't finish it?"
"Because we're in my office. And I have six meetings today." But his eyes had darkened, the papers in his hands forgotten. "Though I could cancel them."
"Don't you dare." I laughed and pulled out my phone. "I have work to do too."
Opening my social media brought an immediate knot to my stomach. My last post was from my birthday. The photo showed me and Lucien with cake icing on our faces, both laughing.
3,847 comments. I started scrolling.
"So you're a murderer? Did you really stab that man?"
"I see the kitchen girl likes knives lol"
"I looked up to you as a book community leader and was hoping you'd start a book club someday... The fuck is this news I'm seeing online?"
"There has to be an explanation. Nobody just stabs someone for no reason."
"Stay strong, Camila. We're waiting for your side of the story."
"Girl, you better come back and explain yourself because this is wild."
My chest thumped as I read through more comments. I needed to say something. Put out an official statement. Take control of the narrative before it controlled me.
Opening a new post, I stared at the blank caption box.
What could I even say? How did you summarize trauma and survival and justice into a neat caption?
"Hey guys..." I started typing, deleted it, typed again, deleted again.
"Fiera." Lucien's voice broke through my spiral. "What's wrong?"
"My media... the comments... I need to post something."
He set his laptop aside and came around the desk. "Then say what's true. Say what you need them to hear. Some will believe. Some won't. But the people who matter will understand." He brushed a strand of hair from my face. "And your story deserves to be told by you. Not by news articles or court documents. By you."
Taking a deep breath, I started typing again. This time, I didn't stop.
"I'm free.
After seven months in a minimum security facility for defending myself against a violent assault, I'm home. I'm whole. And I'm ready to tell my story.
My mother sold me to a man who intended to traffic me. When he tried to rpe me, I fought back. I grabbed a knife and I stabbed him. Then I ran. I lived in fear for months, waiting for the consequences of surviving.
When I was finally arrested, I could have fought the charges. I could have hired expensive lawyers to make it all go away. Instead, I pled guilty to aggravated assault because I wanted to face what I'd done head on. Not because I was wrong to defend myself, but because I was ready to stop running.
Prison taught me that survival isn't pretty. It's messy and complicated and sometimes it requires violence. But it also taught me that I'm stronger than I ever knew.
My debut trilogy launches next Friday. It's a dark stalker romance about a woman who kills for the man she loves. About choosing violence when necessary. About surviving at any cost.
It's fiction. But it's also my truth, written during the quietest, hardest months of my life.
Pre-orders are live now. Link in bio. Thank you!"
My finger hovered over the post button. One last uncertain breath escaped my lips.
"Come here," Lucien stretched his hand toward me from where he'd returned to the couch. I went to him, settling into his lap as he wrapped his arms around me. "You've got this, Fiera. Do it. Take your power back."
"Give me a kiss, please. I need to feel—" he kissed the words away, and right there, loosing myself to his warmth, I hit the button.
We were finishing dinner at a small Italian place near the penthouse when Lucien's phone rang.
"It's Rafae. Give me a second," he answered the call. His posture went from relaxed to rigid in a second. "Don's in the hospital. He was stabbed in prison. He might not make it..."