I froze when I heard it.
"You're free to go."
Just like that.
Free?
The word didn't feel real. It didn't even feel like it belonged to me. My pulse pounded in my ears, and for a moment I couldn't even breathe. My eyes moved slowly to Victor. He stood beside the officer, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. Calm. Controlled. Like he hadn't just walked in and rearranged my entire fate.
"How?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
No one answered.
Aaron moved first. He stepped toward the officer, asking questions, confirming details. I couldn't hear what they were saying; the sounds of his words felt muffled, swallowed by the rush of adrenaline pounding through me. My pulse was deafening in my ears.
Victor didn't look at the officer.
He looked at me.
And I couldn't read him.
I tried to search his face, tried to find some hint of relief, anger, even satisfaction—but there was nothing. Only a calm, almost distant calculation behind those dark eyes. My stomach tightened. For the briefest second, I felt the old pull, the one I had promised myself I would ignore.
After a moment, Aaron turned back to me, his expression breaking into relief. "It's confirmed," he said. "The charges are being withdrawn pending further internal review. You're not staying here."
Not staying.
The words took a second to sink in. My mind reeled, disbelief and relief warring in a chaotic storm. Before I could even process it, Aaron stepped forward and lifted me into the air. I gasped, gripping his shoulders as he laughed, his joy impossible to contain.
"You're free now, Lys!" he shouted.
Free.
For a heartbeat, I closed my eyes and let the reality wash over me. The cold, sterile air of the station, the fear, the whispers, the suffocating walls—they all fell away. I was free.
Instinctively, my eyes darted toward Victor.
He was still there, standing like a dark sentinel in the corner, watching.
There was something in his stare—something I couldn't name. Not anger. Not relief. Not even care. Something heavier, something that left me both unsettled and terrified.
And then he turned.
And walked out.
Just like that.
I didn't know why my chest tightened so violently when he left. Why the empty space he left behind felt so significant, so impossible to fill.
Aaron gently set me down, his hands still on my waist, steadying me. He didn't say anything at first. He just looked at me—at the trembling, exhausted wreck of me—and smiled softly, like I had just survived a war I wasn't sure I could have.
Then, without warning, he kissed me.
Soft. Gentle. Careful.
I froze, every nerve alive. His lips were warm, tender, and patient, as if he had been waiting for permission he never planned to ask for. My body stiffened, my heart thundering, but I didn't pull away.
For a second… I let it happen.
The warmth, the normalcy, the softness—it was everything I hadn't realized I needed. And yet, at the same time, it terrified me. I thought of Victor, the way he had just left, and of all the nights I had spent wishing he cared enough to fight for me. And now, I was kissing Aaron, letting myself feel… something real. Something I hadn't allowed myself to feel in weeks.
"Enough of that! Move it!" a female guard barked, snapping her fingers. "This is not a romance center!"
I jumped back, the spell broken. Reality slammed into me like a wave of cold water.
Aaron chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "They're always like that," he murmured. "Don't worry."
We moved to a small desk area where the remaining release paperwork was processed. The officer slid documents across the counter—a temporary withdrawal of charges, a notice of ongoing investigation, a city travel restriction acknowledgment. Each sheet was official, stamped, heavy with the weight of bureaucracy.
I had to sign three places. My fingers shook violently.
Mrs. Alyssa Raymond.
The words on the page felt foreign, heavy, like I was signing away some fragment of my old life.
The officer removed the intake band from my wrist and handed back my belongings in a clear plastic bag—my phone, my ring, my earrings.
"You're still under investigation," he said flatly. "Do not leave the city without notice."
I nodded, my throat tight. I could feel the tension of weeks—the threat of fraud, the endless humiliation, the nights spent crying in a cell—still clinging to me.
Aaron stayed close. His hand at my lower back never left me, a tether to reality, to warmth, to something I could trust. His gaze softened but didn't waver, like a constant lighthouse through the storm of my mind.
When we stepped outside, the air hit me differently. Fresh. Sharp. Real. Light.
Or maybe I just wasn't trapped anymore.
Aaron opened the passenger door for me. I slid in slowly, staring at the sky as if I hadn't seen it in years. The clouds seemed cleaner, the air sweeter, everything less heavy.
He drove carefully, one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally brushing mine.
"You're safe," he said softly.
Safe.
But my mind wasn't quiet.
Victor hadn't said a word. Not one. He came. He fixed it. And he left. Why?
Aaron squeezed my hand again. "I told you I wouldn't leave you," he said, voice low, filled with certainty.
I looked at him. He meant it.
We drove in silence for a few minutes. Not an uncomfortable silence, but one filled with thought and relief. The city blurred past us, lights streaking like ribbons in the dark.
When we arrived at the house, Elena was waiting at the door. She rushed forward, pulling me into a tight embrace.
"Oh, thank God," she whispered. "I told you this would be sorted."
Lily ran to me next, throwing herself into my arms. "Aunt Alyssa, I missed you so much!"
I hugged her as tightly as I could, feeling some semblance of normalcy return.
"Aunt Alyssa needs to shower first," Elena said, pulling Lily back gently. "You'll feel better after."
I released Lily and gave a small nod. My eyes scanned the living room again, still searching for Victor.
"Victor's out finalizing some deals," Elena said smoothly, almost too smoothly. "I told you—you'd be free soon."
I gave a small, distracted nod.
Upstairs, the shower was long, hot, and exhausting. The water washed over me, cleansing my skin, but it couldn't cleanse my mind. The memory of the jail cell, the threats, the whispers, the fear—it clung to me. I scrubbed until my hands burned and the water ran cold, but still, my thoughts churned.
Finally, I lay back on my bed, wrapped in nothing but a towel, my hair damp and clinging to my face. Exhaustion tugged at me, but so did relief, and something else—something I hadn't expected: warmth. Security. Aaron's presence, his smile, his hand, his kiss—they all grounded me.
Victor had gotten me out. Maybe I mattered to him.
He just… came.
Fixed it.
Left.
My fingers moved before my brain could stop them.
I unlocked my phone.
Scrolled.
Found his name.
I hesitated.
Then I tapped on his contact.
No new messages.
Of course not.
I clicked on his display picture instead.
It was an old photo from a company dinner. Him in a black suit, jaw sharp, eyes dark, expression unreadable as always.
I zoomed in.
Why did he come himself?
Why not send a lawyer?
Why not call?
Why stand there and look at me like that?
My thumb brushed over the screen slowly, tracing the outline of his face like it was skin.
Pathetic.
I switched to his old photos in the media tab. There were only a few — stolen moments I had saved secretly.
One of him adjusting his cufflinks.
One blurry mirror reflection from months ago.
One from Elena's birthday dinner.
I stared at it longer than I should have.
If he didn't care, why was he there?
If he cared… why did he leave without a word?
My chest tightened.
Maybe I mattered.
Maybe I didn't.
Maybe I was just a responsibility.
Or worse — a habit he couldn't fully break.
The thought twisted something deep inside me.
I quickly locked my phone and threw it beside me like it had burned my hand.
Stop.
I shoved the thought away quickly. I had to focus on Aaron.
He stayed. He chose me.
I picked up my phone and typed:
Since I'm no longer returning to the company, you better make the most of me for now… And yes. I'll be your girlfriend.
I stared at the message for a few seconds before hitting send.
I dropped my phone on the bed, closing my eyes.
I imagined a wedding. A child. A new city. A life with Aaron. No boardrooms. No secrets. No forbidden touches. Just us.
For the first time in weeks, my chest relaxed.
That would be perfect.
Wouldn't it?