Chapter 22
The air in the car felt frozen. Aaron’s expression remained grim, his lips a thin, hard line. He reached over and shoved the passenger door open.?
“Get in.”
The door slammed, shutting out the noise of the outside world. Kinsley stared out the window, her profile stiff as she deliberately avoided any chance of catching his gaze in the rearview mirror.
“Just drive, please,” she whispered, desperate to be anywhere else.
As the engine roared to life and the car pulled away from the campus, the tension in her body finally began to ebb, though only slightly.
“I heard every word you said back there,” Aaron said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
My heart skips a beat. Does he mean the lies? Does he know I was just trying to get that jerk to leave me alone? Or did he hear the part where I said it was all just a job?
She kept her eyes fixed on the glass, where her own pale reflection stared back at her. “I only said those things… to make him shut up.”
“Of course. I understand.”
A long, heavy silence stretched between them before he let out a short, cold laugh. “Well done. I was worried you wouldn’t be able to handle it. You actually did much better than I expected.”
Kinsley froze.
He’s not asking if it’s true. He’s not comforting me. He’s just… cold. Is he really that unaffected?
“Forget about that unpleasantness,” he continued, his tone clinical. “I’ll compensate you for the trouble he caused.”
Kinsley turned to look at him, unable to believe he wanted to close the book on this so quickly.
Compensation? That’s all this is to him?
“I don’t want your compensation,” she said softly, her eyes stinging.
She wanted to ask him what he was feeling when he heard her say those things. Did he want to know the truth? Did he care at all? But he only turned away, shaking his head in a weary, dismissive gesture.
They arrived home and walked inside in silence. The house felt suffocatingly quiet for the rest of the night. They kept to opposite ends of the room, neither of them daring to bring up the confrontation or the words that had hung in the air.
----
Two weeks passed.
Kinsley sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the calendar on her phone. Her hands felt ice-cold. Her period was late.
That’s impossible. I took the pill. It has to be the stress—everything with Aaron has been so suffocating lately.
As the days dragged on, she suddenly remembered that afternoon—the shoot where she had to film a vomiting scene. She had drunk so much water, repeating the take three times…
Did I throw up the pill?
Panic flared, her breath hitching in her throat.
What will Aaron think? He’ll never accept this. He explicitly demanded I take that medicine, even had the housekeeper watch me. This is… this is a breach of contract! No, this can’t be happening. I just need to get a test. A test will prove I’m just overreacting.
She forced herself to stay calm and headed downstairs.
In the living room, Aaron was focused on a stack of documents, his pen scratching rhythmically against the paper.
Kinsley stood in the shadows, watching him for a long time.
They had been like strangers lately, even more distant than the day they met.
“Aaron, what if…” she finally gathered the courage to speak.
He looked up. “What is it?”
She forced a natural smile. “What if… something unexpected happens? What would you do?”
Aaron’s brow furrowed. “What kind of accident?”
She curled her fingers into her palms. “I don’t know… just, any kind of unexpected accident.”
The air in the room grew heavy, almost solid. Aaron closed his file, his gaze darkening.
“That won’t happen.” His voice was absolute. “I make arrangements for everything—my work, my life. I control the variables.”
“But there’s always a probability—”
“I do not allow for accidents.” He cut her off, his tone cold and final.
Kinsley felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head. Her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood. She squeezed out a stiff smile. “That’s good…”
----
She returned to her room, refusing to believe it. She still had one shred of hope left.
An hour later, she sat on the bathroom floor, her hands shaking so violently she could barely hold the test.
Two red lines.
It was a result that should have brought joy to anyone else, but to her, it was a death sentence. It was an accident. A breach of contract. A reality he would never accept.
He’s a man of logic and precision. He treats me like a tool to be managed. If I tell him, he’ll just see me as a flaw in his system. Will he make me get rid of it? He’s so cold. He’s so calculated.
Exhaustion washed over her, heavier than the fear.
This is real. I thought I was just acting in a play, and when the curtain fell, everything would go back to normal.
But now? A breach means a massive penalty fee.
I can’t even bear to look at the contract to see the number.
But that’s not the worst part—he’ll look at me like I’m “that kind of woman.”
She remembered the way he had held her in the car, how his chest had felt solid and warm, how he had tried to comfort her. But that was before.
He doesn’t want accidents. He doesn’t want me.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, hot and silent. As Aaron shifted in his sleep, his arm unconsciously tightening around her and pulling her into his warmth, Kinsley bit her lip until it bled, struggling to hold back a sob.
----
Aaron felt a strange, inexplicable agitation at work all day. After sitting through a series of long, grueling meetings, he sent Kinsley a message:
I’ll come to pick you up for dinner. How about that?
He waited, but there was no reply. He assumed she was in class and waited patiently until school let out, only to call her directly.
The call went straight to a blocked signal.
He froze. Impossible. He tried a different number.
The phone was off.
Blood rushed to his ears, a frantic roar of adrenaline. Something is wrong.
Aaron raced home. He stormed into the bedroom—she wasn’t there. He searched every room, turning the house upside down.
The walk-in closet was bare. Her clothes were gone. The vanity was empty, all her makeup and perfumes packed away. It was as if she had never existed at all.
Then, a piece of paper on the table caught his eye. Her handwriting.
Aaron’s hands trembled as he picked it up, fighting for breath.
Dear Aaron,
Thank you for taking care of me during this time.
I am deeply sorry, but I have breached our contract. Out of guilt, I have decided to terminate it early.
I know this involves a significant penalty. That is fine; I am willing to bear it. I have already transferred all the money you gave me back to your account—including the contract payments and the gifts.
As for the penalty fee, I will pay it off through my work in the future. Please give me some time; I will keep my word. Please, believe me.
Kinsley
Aaron’s heart felt as if it were being carved out, piece by agonizing piece.
What happened? We were distant, yes, but why? Why was she so terrified?
He let out a bitter, hollow laugh.
Dammit the penalty fee! I don’t want her money! I never wanted her money!
He didn’t care about the contract. He didn’t care about the money. He only wanted to find her, to lock her away where she could never leave him again. He had never, in his entire life, known a fear like this—the terrifying, absolute realization that he was losing her.