And air rushed out of her lungs.
For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe.
And the world sounded muffled, like she was underwater. Her heart thudded against her ribs.
She blinked up at the ceiling, dazed, trying to gather her senses. Heather rolled over, trying to gather herself, but the noise around her was loud and disorienting.
Her vision was blurred, and everything sounded distant. The fan who had crashed into her groaned nearby, also on the floor.
But Heather barely noticed. She turned her head, wincing, and saw the crowd.
The rest of the crowd was still running toward her, shouting her name, completely ignoring the fact that she was down.
Their eyes locked on her.
Heather’s fingers scrambled across the floor, grasping for her phone, her bag—anything. But it was all too far.
Her legs trembled as she pushed herself up. The pain screamed from her side, but adrenaline screamed louder.
Her eyes darted to the front entrance—there was no car in sight. She struggled to her feet, blinking through the pain, trying to get her balance.
She turned, limping now, and spotted an exit door tucked at the edge of the hallway.
Without thinking, she ran toward it, slamming her shoulder into the handle and pushing through into the indoor parking lot.
She turned back and slammed the door shut, and grabbed a nearby plank from a janitor’s corner.
With shaking arms, she wedged it into the door handle, creating a makeshift barricade.
She stepped back, watching the door begin to tremble violently under the pressure of the crowd pushing against it, trying to force their way through.
She stood frozen, staring at the door as it shook under the pressure, one hand gripping her ribs, the other pressed to her head. She tried to breathe, but it came out in short, gasping bursts.
She knew the plank wouldn’t hold the door very much longer and she needed to leave; she looked around, the parking lot was dim and there weren’t much cars parked.
Where was Marcus? Where was the car?
Her heart sank when she realized—her bag and her phone had fallen back there when she got knocked down.
She had no way to contact anyone now. The crowd could break through at any moment, or worse, find another way in.
Her knees gave out and she collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath as she watched the door.
Her entire body stiffened. She closed her eyes because she didn’t want to look or face whoever it was. Maybe if she stayed still enough, they’d walk away.
She wasn’t supposed to be Heather right now—she was Miss H. How did they recognize her? Maybe they are guessing and haven’t seen her face. Maybe—
Her hand flew to her eyes.
They must have fallen off in the chaos. She closed her eyes and turned her head slightly.
Standing there, just a few feet away, was Caius.
What was he even doing here? Why was he of all people here?
Heather felt like the ground should swallow her. She couldn’t even move, all she could do was just stare, still frozen. This was exactly what she was avoiding; and now, it was what she got.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, stepping closer.
Heather stood up slowly before he could reach her. She brushed dirt off her clothes, trying to steady her breath. The fans were still shouting behind the door.
She took off the mask that had been covering the lower half of her face. Her mind screamed one thing.
She gave a weak, broken laugh. "Those crazy people think I’m Miss H." she pointed at the door shaking violently.
Her voice cracked halfway through.
"I mean," she tried again, forcing a shaky smile, "how could I be Miss H?"
She laughed again, even more nervously. But Caius wasn’t laughing, he was just staring at her.
The door groaned again. The wood splintered, it wouldn’t last.
She tried to laugh once more, but it turned into a silent sob. She tried to swallow it down, but it broke through anyway. Her shoulders shook as the tears welled in her eyes.
Because she knew the plank wasn’t going to hold much longer. Any second now, they’d see her face, and they’d know. The world would finally know.
And she wasn’t ready.
She wasn’t ready to stop hiding, or ready to be Heather again—the Heather everyone judged and hated.
The one they whispered about and saw as their enemy. When she became Miss H five years ago, she was finally someone, their angel and they adored her.
But now, it was all going to fall apart.
She was still laughing, but now tears were streaming down her face. She turned to the door, bracing herself.
The plank snapped, and the door swung open.
Before she could scream, strong arms wrapped around her. Caius pulled her in and pressed her face into his chest, wrapping his coat around the back of her head, shielding her from view.
She gasped against him. His cologne filled her nose—rich, dark, warm. It smelled like cedar and musk and something sharp underneath, like spice. Her body went rigid at first.
Then the heat of his body reached her. The firm pressure of his arms, holding her close. Her face pressed into the wool of his coat, his heartbeat pounding fast and quick against her cheek.
His security team stepped infront of them quickly, forming a protective barrier.
The crowd didn’t see her, and they ran right past, shouting and screaming Miss H’s name.
Heather stayed hidden in Caius’s chest, her breathing shallow. Then she looked up at him.
Why was he doing this?
Why would a monster among men save her?
Why was he, of all people, protecting her?
This was the same man who would have stand back and watch her be exposed. He would have even stand there, smuggling to his satisfaction.
But he didn’t and it shocked her more than anything.
The noise faded, the crowd had passed. Caius still held the coat over her face.
She tilted her head up slightly, just enough to look at him.
Her lips parted as she pulled away. She wanted to ask him why he did this; if it were her, she wouldn’t. She’d rather watch him burn in fire than save him.
Headlights swept across the lot. A car screeched to a stop nearby. Marcus jumped out, his eyes wide as they landed on her—and on Caius.
He stared at them, confusion clouding his face.
This was the man Heather had warned him about. The one she insulted recently. The one she had snapped at him for even looking at.
And yet, here she was—standing with the man herself. Was he aware of her secret identity?
Heather turned to Marcus and began walking towards him, but then stopped.
"How did you know I was Heather?" she asked quietly, her voice still shaky.
Caius gave a small shrug, but his eyes stayed on hers. "I saw a blonde woman run through an exit door and use a plank to wedge it, then fall to the ground... There was something about her that screamed ’Heather’. Even then, I wasn’t sure."
She hadn’t run because she knew she wouldn’t get far—especially not after that fall. The pain was still pulsing through her side.
Besides, where could she have even gone? Marcus wasn’t there. Her phone was gone. Her bag was somewhere on the floor. She was stranded.
In the car, Alex leaned slightly to the side, straining to see. His gaze stayed locked on his mother — and on the man standing near her.
Alex leaned forward a little, staring, as if trying to memorize every angle of his face. He had waited for this moment.
When he asked his mom to bring him to his father’s company, she had refused so quickly, so anxiously, it confirmed everything.
That was all he needed. She had always been a little too careful about his questions. Always brushed them off, changed the subject. But now, his plan had worked.
He had known his father would be here. Mr. Dad was one of the Innovation Center’s biggest patrons—he’d been donating to it for years.
Scholarships, tech grants, funding AI research and privacy law panels. His name was on the annual report Alex had found online. And this week, there was a closed event he couldn’t possibly miss.
So Alex made sure they came. And now, it had finally happened.
His parents were standing in the same place, breathing the same air. His family—his—was right in front of him.
Alex watched and waited.
Heather turned away from Caius and began walking slowly toward the car. Alex’s brows furrowed.
Why wasn’t Mr. Dad following her? Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why wasn’t he doing anything? Why weren’t they coming home together?
His small chest tightened with confusion. Wasn’t this what they were all supposed to want?
Maybe they needed his intervention again. Maybe his dad doesn’t know about him because his mom was hiding him.
He saw himself as their cupid. Suddenly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door.
"Mommy!" he shouted as he ran towards her.
Heather stopped in her tracks. Her son ran towards her, arms stretched—her fear, her confusion, the ringing in her ears. But she didn’t know how to move, her body felt heavy, her heart even more so.
She couldn’t even react or fake anything anymore. She was too tired and broken. If the universe wanted to rip her open—let it.
She carried Alex in her arm, completely ignored the fact Caius was standing there, and entered the car.
She’d figure out how to deal with him later.