The Headline Followed
Country: Aurivelle
City: Auremont
One Week Later
Adrian
Three weeks in Auremont had started becoming something almost dangerous.
Not routine.
Not yet.
But something close to it.
Close enough to be noticed.
It had been three weeks since I arrived in Aurivelle.
And one week since I signed the lease for the office.
Seven days of turning something empty into something usable.
Furniture deliveries.
Basic installations.
Meetings with contractors who spoke more about timelines than results.
Delays.
Adjustments.
Small decisions that felt insignificant until they weren’t.
Desks.
Lighting.
Layout.
The kind of details I had never handled personally before.
The kind of work I used to walk past without noticing.
Now…
I stood in the middle of it.
Every day.
Watching it come together slowly.
Imperfectly.
Real.
The office still wasn’t complete.
Not fully functional.
But it was no longer empty.
And that alone felt like progress.
Mornings started early.
Not because there was too much to do but because there was no one else to do it.
I would stop by the café downstairs.
Order the same coffee.
Stand there a moment longer than necessary, adjusting to the quiet anonymity of it.
No one recognized me.
No one cared.
Then I would head to the office.
Walk through the half-finished space.
Check what has been done.
What hadn’t.
What needed to be fixed.
What needed to be redone entirely.
Small progress.
Slow movement.
But movement still.
By evening, I would leave later than intended.
The streets are no longer entirely unfamiliar.
The city is no longer entirely distant.
Still not mine.
But no longer rejecting me either.
And in those brief moments…standing in that unfinished office or walking through Auremont without being watched…there were seconds.
Short.
Unstable.
But real.
Where it almost felt like I had stepped outside the life I used to live.
Almost.
Until something would remind me quietly.
Unavoidably.
That nothing I had left behind had actually disappeared.
It had only…waited.
The grocery store was crowded.
Saturday afternoon.
Too many people.
Too many carts.
Too much noise.
I moved through the aisles quietly, picking things without really thinking about them.
Coffee.
Bread.
Pasta.
Water.
Things I still wasn't entirely used to buying for myself.
My phone remained face down in my pocket.
Always silent.
That silence had started feeling protective.
Necessary.
“Excuse me, can you increase the volume?”
I looked up automatically.
Near the front of the store, mounted above the checkout area, a television screen had switched from local financial news to international coverage.
And then I saw the face.
Eliora.
My entire body went still.
The screen showed footage outside the Eldorian courthouse.
Reporters everywhere.
Cameras flashing.
Then photographs appeared beside the anchorwoman.
Pictures of Alvara.
Pregnant.
Pale.
Another image hospital footage leaked from somewhere.
Then Eliora again.
Elegant even while surrounded by scandal.
The headline beneath her name burned into the screen.
SOCIALITE ELIORA ASTER FACES CRIMINAL CHARGES IN ASSAULT OF PREGNANT WOMAN
The anchorwoman spoke clearly.
“Eldorian prosecutors have officially filed multiple charges against socialite Eliora Aster following the reopening of investigations surrounding the assault of Alvara Vale, wife of businessman Adrian Vale, nearly a year ago.”
My chest tightened.
The television continued.
“The charges include aggravated assault resulting in the death of a fetus, reckless endangerment, intentional bodily harm against a pregnant woman, intimidation and coercion during an active investigation, and conspiracy to suppress evidence connected to the original incident.”
“Authorities also confirmed that businessman Adrian Vale is currently under renewed legal investigation following the emergence of additional evidence connected to allegations of physical abuse, emotional abuse, intimidation, and negligence during his marriage to Alvara Vale.”
“According to prosecutors, prosecutors are reviewing multiple incidents allegedly involving physical assault, coercive control, verbal degradation, psychological abuse, and failure to provide medical protection during Mrs. Vale’s pregnancy.”
“Legal analysts in Eldoria say formal charges against Adrian Vale may include domestic abuse, emotional cruelty, assault, negligence resulting in bodily harm, and accessory obstruction connected to the suppression of evidence after the incident.”
“At the time of reporting, Adrian Vale is believed to be outside Eldoria.”
My stomach dropped.
Completely.
The noise inside the grocery store seemed to blur for a second.
Wanted.
Not accused.
Not criticised.
Wanted.
I stared at the television without really seeing it anymore.
Because one thought hit harder than everything else.
Aurivelle.
If Eldoria formally pursued charges internationally…if this escalated beyond scandal and into active prosecution.
Then everything I was trying to build here could collapse before it even began.
Licensing.
Registration.
Banking approvals.
Investors.
The Hawthornes would not listen to a man being investigated internationally for abuse against his pregnant wife.
My chest tightened violently.
Not because the accusations were false.
But because for the first time since arriving in Auremont, I understood something clearly…the past was no longer something waiting behind me.
It was moving toward me.
Another image appeared.
The staircase.
The penthouse.
Police footage.
“The victim, who was reportedly five months pregnant at the time of the incident, suffered severe injuries after falling from the second-floor staircase inside a private Vale penthouse property. Medical reports confirm the unborn child did not survive.”
Around me, the grocery store had gone quieter.
Not silent.
But attentive.
Listening.
Watching.
“The prosecution alleges that Ms. Aster deliberately pushed Mrs. Vale during a confrontation inside the residence. Newly surfaced witness testimony and recovered recordings reportedly contradict the original statement submitted to authorities last year.”
“ The key witness identified in the reopened investigation is former household employee Mrs. Whitmore, who was reportedly present inside the Vale penthouse at the time of the incident. According to prosecutors, Mrs. Whitmore initially withheld testimony after allegedly being threatened by Eliora Aster, who warned that she would kill her if she spoke to authorities.”
“Authorities also clarified that the incident did not occur inside the main Vale estate, but within a private penthouse property gifted to Adrian Vale and his wife by Vale Industries chairman Maxwell Vale following their marriage.”
Then came the next part.
“The newly revealed details have intensified an already devastating public scandal surrounding businessman Adrian Vale and the Vale family.”
“Earlier this year, leaked recordings and videos allegedly documenting emotional abuse within Adrian Vale's marriage triggered one of Eldoria’s largest corporate scandals, forcing Vale Industries into crisis.”
“The scandal reportedly resulted in major investor withdrawal, severe reputational damage, and internal instability within the company, with public outrage intensifying after Alvara Vale disappeared shortly afterward.”
“In response, the Vale Industries board, led internally by chairman Maxwell Vale, voted Adrian Vale out of executive authority in what analysts described as an aggressive attempt to contain the damage.”
“Sources close to the family later reported that Adrian Vale became largely estranged from both the company and the Vale family following the fallout.”
“The latest revelations surrounding the loss of Alvara Vale's pregnancy and the criminal charges against Eliora Aster have reignited public anger across Eldoria and internationally.”
“Recent business coverage from Aurivelle also appears to confirm that Alvara Vale is alive and currently operating successful ventures in Auremont, where she has gained attention for her growing influence across the fashion industry”
A woman beside the vegetables let out a horrified sound.
“Oh my God.”
Another woman folded her arms tightly.
“Five months pregnant?” she said. “That woman is evil.”
“No,” another answered sharply. “Both of them are evil. Where was the husband while all this was happening?”
A third woman shook her head slowly.
“Men like that always stand and watch while another woman destroys their wife.”
“They said she was a maid before marriage,” someone else added. “Imagine what that poor girl must have suffered in that house.”
“So they destroyed her life and covered it up for a year?” another woman said in disbelief.
“The whole family knew,” someone muttered. “Rich people always protect their sons.”
“Five months pregnant,” an older woman whispered again, horrified. “That girl was carrying a child.”
“And he still stayed with the mistress?” another woman snapped. “Disgusting.”
“Wait,” a younger woman said suddenly, squinting at the television. “That’s Alvara Dane, the one from Hawthorne Institute of Fashion isn't it ?”
“The designer of the year ?”
“Yes,” another answered immediately. “I’ve seen her online. She's all over the media, She became successful after all that.”
“Good for her honestly,” the teenager near the drinks aisle scoffed. “I hope she never goes back to him.”
“Imagine carrying a child for a man who humiliates you publicly,” an older woman murmured.
Another voice answered coldly..
“Men like Adrian Vale always think money excuses cruelty.”
“And the mistress pushed her?” someone else said angrily. “God will punish that woman.”
“No,” another answered sharply. “God already started.”
I kept my head down.
Too late.
The television continued playing footage.
More photographs.
My name beneath them.
Adrian Vale.
I turned slightly away from the screen.
A teenager near the drinks aisle scoffed loudly.
“If my boyfriend treated me like that, I’d burn his house down.”
“That poor woman lost her child,” an older woman murmured quietly.
Another voice angrier this time.
“I hope both of them rot in hell.”
Nobody disagreed.
One woman crossed herself softly.
“Pregnant women are vulnerable,” she said quietly. “To push her down the stairs…”
Her voice broke slightly.
“That’s not jealousy anymore.”
A pause.
“That’s wickedness.”
I felt suddenly hot despite the cold air conditioning.
My hands tightened around the grocery basket.
Then someone said my name again.
“Adrian Vale is disgusting.”
A pause.
“And honestly? Men like that never change.”
I pulled my hood higher immediately.
Turned away from the television.
And walked.
Fast.
Too fast.
I abandoned half the groceries near the checkout without realizing it.
The automatic doors opened.
Cold December air hit my face hard enough to sting.
Still…it wasn’t enough.
Because their voices followed me outside.
Not literally.
But in my head.
That poor woman.
She lost her child.
I hope both of them rot in hell.
I crossed the street quickly toward the bus stop.
Head lowered.
Breathing uneven.
For one irrational second, I had the terrifying feeling someone would recognize me.
That someone would look up and say…
That’s him.
The husband.
The man who let it happen.
The bus arrived.
I got on immediately.
Sat near the back.
Face turned toward the window.
The entire ride home, I kept expecting my phone to ring even though nobody had the number anymore.
I kept expecting Eldoria to somehow reach through the ocean and drag me back into it.
By the time I reached my apartment building, my chest still felt tight.
I unlocked the door quickly.
Stepped inside.
And finally exhaled.
The apartment was quiet.
Safe.
Still anonymous.
I dropped the keys onto the counter harder than intended.
Then stood there motionless.
Because the worst part wasn’t the headlines.
Or the charges.
Or even hearing strangers hate me.
The worst part was that none of them were wrong.
I pressed both hands against the kitchen counter and closed my eyes briefly.
I had come to Aurivelle believing distance would feel cleaner.
Lighter.
But the past had followed me anyway.
Into grocery stores.
Onto television screens.
Into the mouths of strangers.
And suddenly the city felt smaller than it had before.
Less anonymous.
Less forgiving.
I looked toward the dark apartment window.
Toward Auremont glowing beyond the glass.
Somewhere in this city…
Alvara was alive.
Breathing.
Building a life that no longer included me.
And the world was finally beginning to understand what she survived.
A bitter laugh almost left me.
Too late.
Everything was happening too late.
I leaned back against the counter slowly.
Exhaustion settling deep into my bones.
For the first time since I came to Aurivelle…
I no longer felt like a man starting over.
I felt exactly what I was.
A man being followed by his own ruin.