Chapter 137
Chapter 137:
In the bedroom, Eliza was throwing clothes into a suitcase, crying — angry, messy tears.
“He deleted the video, you know,” Azalea said, appearing in the doorway.
Eliza froze, a sweater in her hand. She wiped her eyes. “What video p>
“The rescue,” Azalea said, leaning against the frame. “One of the security guys had his body cam running. Daddy made him wipe the footage. Scrubbed the cloud and everything p>
“Why?” Eliza sat down on the edge of the bed.
𝖥о𝘭l𝗈𝗐 𝘂𝗌 𝗼ո ѕ.𝖼o𝘮
Azalea walked in and dropped into the desk chair, spinning it slightly. “Because in the video, he was screaming your name like a maniac. He was doing CPR, breathing his life into you — and he kissed you before you were even breathing again p>
Eliza’s heart stopped. “He — what p>
“It was raw,” Azalea said, the smirk fading. “Not pretty. He deleted it because he didn’t want you to feel ‘burdened’ by his feelings.” She made air quotes around the word. “He didn’t want you to see him weak p>
She held Eliza’s gaze. “He’s not cold, Eliza. He’s just terrified you’ll leave p>
She glanced pointedly at the open suitcase. “And look at you. You’re packing p>
Eliza looked at the bag. It suddenly felt incredibly heavy — as though she were packing away his heart along with her clothes.
He hid his desperation to protect my dignity. To protect me from the weight of his love.
“I —” Eliza started.
“He’s a dumb guy,” Azalea concluded, standing up. “But he loves you. Just thought you should know p>
She walked out.
Eliza sat there for a long time, staring at the suitcase.
Slowly, she reached in and pulled out one item. A shirt.
She didn’t unpack the rest. Not yet. She was still scared. But she didn’t zip the bag shut.
The next morning, the city was loud. Horns blared, sirens wailed, and the wind whipped through the streets of Manhattan.
Eliza walked toward her art restoration studio. Azalea was tagging along, claiming she had a free period at school — though Eliza suspected she was cutting class to play bodyguard.
“You know, you could just tell him you’re staying,” Azalea said, kicking a pebble along the sidewalk.
“It’s not that simple,” Eliza said, clutching her bag strap.
A black SUV swerved to the curb and cut them off. Tires screeched. The sudden movement was a deliberate act of aggression against the city’s rhythm. Before Eliza could process it, the door flew open and Anson Hyde stepped out.
He looked terrible. His suit was wrinkled, his hair unkempt, his eyes wild with desperation.
“Eliza,” Anson said, moving toward her. The two bodyguards following them tensed immediately, stepping forward to intercept.
“Wait,” Eliza said, holding up a hand. The men stopped, rigid and ready. She wanted to handle this herself.
Anson reached her and grabbed her arm. “We need to talk p>
“Hey!” Azalea stepped between them and shoved his arm away. “Hands off, creep p>