Chapter 26 up
“Selena, open the door.”
Clark’s voice was cold, stripped of emotion, as he stood outside Selena’s apartment. There was no jealousy left in it, no panic or desperate edge—only disappointment that had hardened into something immovable.
Inside, Selena sat on the floor with her back against the sofa. Her face was pale, eyes swollen, breath hitching from tears that had not stopped since the night before. The apartment smelled of stale air and despair, like grief that had settled into the walls.
“Selena!” Clark knocked again, harder this time. “I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth.”
With trembling hands, Selena forced herself to stand. Her legs felt weak, as if they might give out at any second. She walked to the door and opened it slowly.
Clark stepped inside immediately.
“What is this?” he asked sharply, raising his phone. “That recording. Your conversation with Vincent.”
Selena closed the door behind him, her body sagging. “I… I didn’t know he was recording it.”
Clark let out a short, bitter laugh. “So you admit it’s real?”
Selena said nothing.
That silence was a confession.
“You said you were trapped,” Clark continued, his voice rising. “You said you were set up. But in that recording, you accepted his offer. Calmly. Willingly. No threats. No pressure.”
Tears streamed down Selena’s face. “I just wanted to be safe, Clark.”
“Safe?” Clark stepped closer, his eyes burning. “By selling yourself?”
“I’m pregnant!” Selena screamed hysterically. “I was scared you’d leave me!”
The words stopped Clark in his tracks.
His gaze dropped briefly to Selena’s stomach, then returned to her face. For the first time, there was no softness in his eyes. No trace of the man who once believed every tear she shed.
“I never asked you to do this,” he said quietly. “Not once.”
Selena sobbed harder, her body shaking. “I did all of this for us!”
“No,” Clark cut in firmly. “You did it for yourself.”
The words landed like a blow.
Selena slid down onto the floor, clutching at her chest as if she couldn’t breathe. “Then… then you’re leaving me?”
Clark closed his eyes.
In his mind, Nyla’s face appeared—calm, wounded, but dignified. Nyla never screamed. Never begged. Never used tears as a weapon. She had endured in silence while he had chosen blindness.
“I don’t know,” Clark answered honestly. “But I do know this—you’ve destroyed what little trust I had left.”
Selena collapsed fully to the floor, a silent scream tearing through her chest.
Clark turned toward the door.
“Clark!” Selena cried desperately. “Don’t go!”
He stopped for a moment, his hand on the door handle, but he didn’t look back. “Stop lying,” he said quietly. “At least… to yourself.”
The door closed behind him.
Selena was left alone, surrounded by the ruins she had created with her own hands.
Elsewhere, Nyla sat on the balcony of her apartment. The night wind brushed gently against her face, but her chest felt heavy, as if something unseen was pressing down on it. Since the news about Selena had spread, she felt no sense of victory.
Only exhaustion.
Her phone vibrated.
Clark’s name appeared on the screen.
Nyla stared at it for a long moment before answering.
“Hello,” she said flatly.
“Nyla,” Clark’s voice sounded hoarse. “I… I know I don’t deserve to call you.”
She remained silent.
“I know everything now,” he continued. “About Selena. About her lies.”
“And?” Nyla asked shortly.
Clark hesitated. “I’m sorry.”
The words finally came—too late, but sincere.
“I’m sorry for not protecting you. For letting you be humiliated. For choosing to believe the wrong tears.”
Nyla closed her eyes.
“An apology doesn’t erase wounds,” she said softly.
“I know,” Clark replied quickly. “I’m not asking you to come back. I just… needed you to know that I regret it.”
A long silence stretched between them.
“I’m learning how to live without depending on anyone,” Nyla said at last. “Including you.”
Clark swallowed. “I’m proud of you.”
The simple sentence made Nyla’s chest tighten.
“There was a time,” she said quietly, “when I waited to hear those words every day.”
Clark said nothing. His heart cracked open in his chest.
“Now,” Nyla continued, “I don’t need them anymore.”
The call ended.
Clark stared at the dark screen for a long time.
He realized then—this wasn’t punishment.
It was consequence.
The next morning, in Vincent’s office.
Nyla stood by the window, looking out at the restless city below. Cars moved like veins of light, people rushing to places that mattered to them. Vincent stood a short distance away, watching her reflection in the glass.
“If you want to take some time off,” Vincent said calmly, “I’ll understand.”
Nyla shook her head. “No. I want to work.”
Vincent gave a faint smile. “I don’t regret what I did.”
Nyla turned to look at him. “I know.”
“The truth hurts,” Vincent continued evenly. “But lies are crueler.”
Nyla nodded slowly.
For the first time in a long while, she felt something close to clarity—not happiness, not relief, but strength.
Behind her, far away, Selena was learning the same truth too late:
Some traps feel sweet at the beginning—
but they destroy everything at the end.