Chapter 47
Aoi
If I hadn’t put a reminder on my phone that today is the press conference, I would’ve remained buried under my blanket for the rest of the week.
It must have been two days since I stormed out of Andrew’s penthouse. Maybe I should call him Visha now since that’s his real name. Though it doesn’t matter anymore.
I don’t want to see him again. Not him nor anyone else. I just want to keep rotting in this bed for the rest of my life and hope I’ll die of dehydration or starvation, so I won’t have to put a bullet through my skull.
Amira and Elena insisted I stay in their guest room for as long as I need, but I fucking hate myself for imposing on them like this.
Dragging myself out from under the blanket, I manage to stay seated for a total of ten seconds before my body’s weight triples and I crash back onto the mattress.
Please. You have to get up, Aoi.
Just today, just for a couple hours.
But I can’t. I feel like there’s a cruise ship on my back, digging me deeper into the mattress.
Get up. Come on, get up.
Why won’t you listen, stupid body?
“Fuck,” I sob. “Fuck you. Get up you useless piece of shit.”
A soft knock on the door forces me to wipe my face with the back of my sleeve as Amira walks in, holding a tray of food.
I don’t want to see her right now. Not when I look so pathetic. She’s witnessed my misery firsthand and yet she hasn’t asked a single question. I’m scared that she knew all along, but I can’t take another betrayal, so I won’t ask her.
“Eat something, love.” She sits down on the edge of the bed next to me and stares at me until I sit up against the headboard. “Thank you.”
I know I should take the tray from her and just eat, but I’m not hungry and there is no strength left in me to care.
Amira spears a piece of apple with a fork and holds it up to my mouth, patiently waiting. I part my lips and eat the apple.
I don’t remember chewing having ever been so grueling and yet it drains the little amount of energy I still harbor.
“Dixon called,” she says, stabbing another piece of apple and feeding it to me. “He said you haven’t been answering your emails and texts. Your press conference is today.”
I sigh, slumping against the bed frame. “Mhm.”
I don’t want to go. I don’t want to see anyone, talk to anyone and be seen. I just want to rot in this bed forever and die. I just want to stop this agonizing chainsaw tearing my heart apart every time I get a second to think. I don’t want to keep remembering him.
“I know you’re not in the right mind to go but you’ll regret it if you don’t attend.” She pushes a strand of messy hair behind my ear and smiles. “I’ll come with you if you want.”
My gaze settles on her face, and I stare at her for a quiet moment. She continues feeding me, and I wait for her to ask me what happened. But she doesn’t and instead focuses on her task.
“Okay.”
She looks up from the tray and smiles. “I’m proud of you.”
You don’t mean that.
***
It ends up taking me three hours to get out of bed, shower, and get my ass to the Grand Air Hotel where the conference takes place.
I’m about to be late if I don’t get moving, but honestly I don’t even care anymore. The only thing keeping me walking is Amira holding my hand and making sure I attend the press conference.
Cameras start filming and flashing pictures of us the second we walk in. My eyes focus on the path ahead, stepping up to the stage. The loss of her comforting hand as she settles near the wall and watches me take a seat next to Mr. Williams is grueling.
My eyes remain stuck on her face until she smiles and nods as if she were saying, “It’s okay. I’m here. You got this.”
I sigh and ignore my publisher’s glare as he speaks up, “As you all may know already, we’re here today to reveal Devon Reid’s identity and the introduction to their new book.”
I glance at the microphone on the table and swallow the lump in my throat.
“Thank you all for being here today,” I begin.
“I have thought long and hard about the consequences of this decision–and how much my life will change once I go public. I’m Devon Reid but my real name is Aoi Holden.
” My gaze flicks to Amira, standing at the edge of the crowd, her steady nod urging me on.
“I’ve realized that change is necessary if I’m ever to follow my true purpose.
And that’s why I’m here–to introduce my autobiography. The last book I’ll ever write.”
Gasps erupt in the room, and countless shocked whispers cloud the space, but I ignore them. “With this final book I put an end to Devon Reid’s life.”
And mine.
Amira’s smile drops as she gawks at me. I avert my gaze. I don’t want to imagine what she’s thinking about right now.
Did she have her suspicions? Is she disappointed? Angry?
“What the hell are you talking about?” Mr. Williams whispers furiously. “You never said anything of the sort!”
I tune his voice out and stare at the crowd of journalists, raising their hands to ask questions and flashing their cameras in my direction like I’m some animal in a zoo.
“What motivated your decision, Mr. Holden?” a middle aged journalist asks.
Another chimes in, “Mister, Holden! Will you really never write again?”
My hands tremble in my lap and nausea swirls in my stomach like a hurricane. Fuck, I just want to bolt out of here and hide in a hole for the rest of my pathetic existence.
Stop looking at me. Don’t ask me anything.
Leave me alone.
“Aoi, what is your relationship with Aiden Morgan?” a reporter questions, and that makes me frown. “Is it true that you’re in a relationship with the youngest Lacroix brother?”
What? Why would they even ask me that?
“I will only answer questions about my autobiography and my choice to quit the industry. Refrain from asking unnecessary questions that do not suit the context of this press conference.” I exhale and clench my fists under the table, digging my nails into my flesh until relief explodes from the pain of my skin tearing.
I don’t know how I haven’t broken down yet.
“My retirement from the industry is led by personal reasons, and I won’t explain further.
I have no intention of ever publishing again. ”
The journalists get louder, swarming me with incessant questions, and I feel my heart shrink in my chest as another wave of self-hatred crashes into me.
I turn to Dixon and hold back the nausea threatening to stain the stage if I don’t get the hell out of here. “I’m sorry but I have to go. Please, answer their questions for me.”
“Wait, what?” He reaches for my arm, but I’m already halfway across the stage when Mr. Williams stands up from his chair and calls after me alongside Dixon.
I can’t breathe.
I have to get the fuck out of here before I lose it. The lobby is too crowded, and people seem to recognize me as they start walking toward me.
No. No. Please, leave me alone.
“There you are!” Amira’s voice echoes behind me, her hand grabbing my wrist. “Let’s get out of here.”
Fuck, I want to cry and let her hold me, but I need to be far from here first. I can’t stand all these judging eyes and prying ears just waiting for me to slip up so they can tear me down.
I interlace our fingers and let her guide us through the lobby. “I’ll get the car, okay? Don’t move from here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I don’t know what face I’m making, but her usually composed demeanor falters, and she grabs my cheeks. “Aoi, tell me you understand.”
I nod, and she mirrors my move before running out of the hotel and leaving me behind. Staring at the ground, I watch my foot tapping impatiently against the polished floor, my clammy hands wrapped around myself for comfort.
I yelp when my arm gets yanked out of nowhere.
No. Not you.