I woke up to my phone vibrating nonstop.
Messages.
Calls.
Notifications exploding one after another.
At first—
I thought something happened overnight.
Then I looked at the screen.
And immediately realized—
Something had.
Ryan:
BRO TURN ON THE NEWS
Unknown Number:
You're everywhere right now.
Another message.
Another.
Another.
Social media notifications flooding endlessly.
My chest tightened instantly.
Because there was only one reason this could happen.
The gala.
I sat up quickly.
The small apartment suddenly felt too quiet again.
Then I noticed her.
Still asleep beside me.
Peaceful for once.
And somehow—
That made the panic worse.
Because the world outside was already tearing us apart again.
I grabbed my phone.
Opened the first article.
And froze.
"Ashford Gala Erupts Into Public Scandal"
Another headline.
"Daughter of Powerful Business Family Seen Escaping Gala With Unknown Male"
Another.
"Who Is the Boy That Publicly Challenged the Ashford Family?"
Damn.
Pictures filled the screen.
Blurry photos of us holding hands.
Running through the ballroom.
Security chasing after us.
Even the moment she grabbed my hand publicly—
Captured forever now.
The internet was already destroying the story into pieces.
Half truth.
Half rumor.
And somehow—
That made it even more dangerous.
I opened social media next.
Big mistake.
The entire city seemed obsessed overnight.
Some people called it romantic.
Others called me a gold digger.
Some blamed her family.
Others blamed me.
Everyone suddenly had opinions about our lives.
And the scariest part?
People were choosing sides.
A soft movement beside me interrupted my thoughts.
She stirred slightly.
Still half asleep.
"…What time is it?"
I looked at her carefully.
Trying to decide how much to tell her immediately.
Then my silence answered for me.
Her expression changed instantly.
"…It's bad?"
I handed her the phone quietly.
And watched the color leave her face slowly as she scrolled.
Headline after headline.
Picture after picture.
Public.
Completely public.
"Oh my god…"
Her voice barely came out.
Not dramatic.
Not emotional.
Just shocked.
Because there was no undoing this now.
She kept scrolling.
Then suddenly stopped.
I noticed the exact moment her breathing changed.
"…They released a statement already."
Cold settled inside my chest instantly.
"What kind of statement?"
She looked up at me slowly.
And somehow—
That expression scared me more than panic would've.
"They called you unstable."
Silence.
Then—
"They said you manipulated me emotionally."
Wow.
My jaw tightened immediately.
Because of course they did.
Powerful people protect themselves first.
Always.
"There's more," she whispered.
She turned the screen toward me.
Official statement from the Ashford family.
Carefully worded.
Professional.
Polished.
And completely brutal underneath.
They described me as:
obsessive
emotionally dangerous
unstable
attention-seeking
A threat.
Not a person.
A threat.
I laughed once quietly.
Not because it was funny.
Because anger sometimes sounds like laughter first.
"They're trying to destroy you," she said softly.
No.
I understood something worse.
"They're trying to control the narrative."
Because if the public saw this as romance—
Her father lost control.
But if they turned me into the villain?
Then suddenly—
Everything he did looked justified.
Her hands trembled slightly around the phone.
"My father's never handled public embarrassment well."
I already noticed.
Then my phone rang again.
Unknown number.
For a second—
Neither of us moved.
Because we both knew who it probably was.
I answered anyway.
Silence greeted me first.
Then—
Her father's voice.
Cold.
Controlled.
Dangerously calm.
"You should've stayed away."
She froze beside me instantly after hearing him.
"You already made your statement," I replied quietly.
"And yet you still don't understand the situation."
That tone again.
Not shouting.
Worse.
Controlled disappointment.
Like someone discussing damage instead of people.
"You turned my daughter into a public spectacle," he continued.
I almost snapped immediately.
"No," I said coldly.
"You did that the moment you tried controlling her life."
Silence.
Heavy silence.
Then—
"You believe this attention helps you?"
A pause.
"You have no idea what powerful people can do when they feel threatened."
There it was.
The real warning.
Not emotional anymore.
Strategic.
I looked toward her quietly.
She was staring at me with fear growing in her eyes.
Because she knew her father wasn't bluffing.
"You should be careful," her father continued calmly.
"Because right now, public sympathy is the only thing protecting you."
That sentence hit differently.
Because hidden underneath it—
Was the threat.
If public opinion changed—
So would the rules.
Then the call ended.
Just like that.
No goodbye.
No shouting.
Only warning.
The silence afterward felt suffocating.
Rain tapped softly against the apartment windows again.
The city outside already awake.
Already talking about us.
Already turning our lives into entertainment.
She lowered the phone slowly.
"…What do we do now?"
That question stayed in the room for several seconds.
Because honestly?
I didn't know anymore.
This wasn't secret love now.
It wasn't hidden rebellion.
It was war in public.
And somewhere deep down—
I realized something terrifying.
Her father was right about one thing.
There was no going back after this.