Chapter Ten: Why won't he leave me be?

Ariana Cross

The summons came via email at 6:15 AM.

Following your conduct at the recent engineering symposium, a formal public apology is required. Mr. Lucien Vale has graciously accepted our invitation to return to campus this Friday. Your attendance and your apology is mandatory. Failure to comply will result in immediate academic suspension.

I stared at the screen until the words blurred. My hands shook. Not from fear from rage.

They were forcing me to apologize. To him. In public. Like telling the truth about his brake bias was a crime worse than his drug scandal.

And I had no choice.

If I refused, I was out. No degree. No future. No way to earn the money that could save Lena's life.

I deleted the email and threw my phone across the room. It bounced off the mattress and landed on the floor, still glowing with the dean's poisonous words.

"Bastards," I whispered.

The auditorium was packed by 2 PM.

Same room. Same stage. Same lights. But this time, the whispers were about me.

"There she is. The girl who humiliated Lucien Vale."

"I heard she's getting expelled if she doesn't apologize."

I kept my head down and walked to the front row. Serena sat two seats down, practically vibrating with glee.

"Oh, this is going to be delicious," she whispered. "I can't wait to watch you grovel."

I didn't look at her. I didn't trust myself not to break her nose.

The side doors opened. Lucien entered, surrounded by his team, but this time there was no chaos. Just controlled, polished perfection. Charcoal suit, no tie, his face was calm.

He looked at me once.

Just once.

And I saw something in his eyes that made my stomach twist not triumph. Something darker. Almost like regret.

Dr. Voss spoke first, praising the university's "commitment to constructive dialogue." She talked for ten minutes without once looking at me.

Then she turned to the microphone and smiled.

"And now, Miss Ariana Cross has prepared a few words. Miss Cross?"

The auditorium went silent.

Every eye locked onto me. Hundreds of students. Dozens of faculty. Lucien's team. The press, cameras ready.

I stood on legs that felt like they might collapse.

The walk to the stage took forever. I could feel the weight of Lucien's gaze burning into my back.

I reached the microphone and looked out at the sea of faces.

"I would like to apologize," I said, my voice steady only because I'd practiced this a hundred times, "to Mr. Lucien Vale and the university for my conduct. My critique was inappropriate. Unprofessional. Driven by personal bias."

The words tasted like ash.

"Mr. Vale is a champion. A leader. I was wrong to question his methods. And I am... grateful... for this opportunity to make amends."

I forced myself to look at him.

He was staring at me, his expression unreadable. But his hands resting on his knees, visible to the cameras, were clenched into fists so tight his knuckles had turned white.

"Thank you, Miss Cross," Dr. Voss said, stepping in smoothly. "Mr. Vale, would you care to respond?"

Lucien stood slowly. He walked to the microphone, movements controlled, deliberate. He looked at me, not the crowd.

"I accept your apology, Miss Cross," he said, his voice flat. "And I hope, in time, you'll accept mine."

The room murmured, confused. The dean's smile faltered.

Lucien walked off stage without another word.

I made it to the bathroom before I broke.

I locked the stall and pressed my forehead against the cool metal door, my breath coming in shaky gasps. The humiliation burned like acid. I'd just stood in front of two hundred people and lied about my own integrity. I'd swallowed my pride and choked on it.

My phone buzzed.

Hospital.

"Miss Cross?" The nurse's voice was strained, panic barely contained. "It's Lena. She's had a severe reaction to the new immunosuppressant. Her kidneys are failing. We need you here now."

The world tilted.

"I'm coming," I choked out, already moving.

I burst out of the bathroom, through the hallway, past the lingering crowds. I didn't see Lucien standing near the exit. Didn't see his expression shift when he looked at my face.

I just ran.

The hospital corridor smelled like antiseptic and endings.

I found Dr. Kane outside Lena's room, his face carefully neutral.

"She's stable for now," he said. "But the treatment isn't working. Her body is rejecting it. We need to move to the next protocol a biologic therapy. But it's not covered."

"How much?"

"Eighty thousand for the initial round. More for maintenance.

Eighty thousand.

I had three hundred and twelve dollars in my checking account.

"Your insurance won't cover it," Dr. Kane said, gentler now. "It's experimental."

I looked through the glass at Lena. She was so small. So pale. Tubes ran from her arms like she was being drained by the building itself. My baby sister. The only family I had left.

And I was going to lose her because I couldn't afford to keep her alive.

"Ariana."

I turned.

Elias stood in the corridor, hair wild, his hoodie inside out. He must have run here.

"How did you know?" I asked.

"Mia heard from the hospital." He stepped closer, his eyes soft with worry. "I came as fast as I could."

"You shouldn't have."

"Ariana." He reached for my hand. I let him take it. "I paid the immediate bill. The stabilization. It's not the full amount, but it buys us time. A few days, maybe a week."

I went completely still.

"You what?"

"I paid for it. The hospital was going to transfer her —"

"You paid for it." My voice rose, cracking. "Without asking me? Without even telling me?"

"I was trying to help —"

"I don't need your help!" I yanked my hand away, tears burning my eyes. "I don't need you swooping in, throwing money at my problems. I don't need to owe you. I don't need to owe anyone."

"You wouldn't owe me —"

"I'D OWE YOU EVERYTHING!" The shout echoed down the corridor. I dropped my head, shoulders shaking. "Don't you get it? Every time someone throws me a rope, it turns into a chain. Another person who gets to tell me what to do, how to live, who to be. I can't carry any more debt. Not financial. Not emotional. Nothing."

Elias was silent. Then he stepped back, his expression crumbling.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just wanted to keep

her alive. For you."

"I know." My voice was barely audible. "And I hate that I'm angry at you for it. But I'm not normal, Elias. I'm barely holding together. And every time someone tries to fix me, I break a little more."

He reached out, hesitated, and let his hand fall.

"I'll go. But the money's already paid. There's nothing to owe. Just... let me know if you need anything."

He walked away, shoulders curved, footsteps fading.

I stood there, alone in the fluorescent buzz, my reflection staring back from the polished floor, a girl who'd just been publicly dismantled, who'd just screamed at the only person who'd ever loved her quietly, who was watching her sister die and couldn't do a thing to stop it.

"Impressive."

I spun around.

Lucien Vale stood at the end of the corridor, his charcoal suit rumpled, his hair windblown, his chest heaving. Like he'd run here. Like he'd followed me.

"What are you doing here?" My voice was flat, hollow.

"I followed you." He took a step closer, eyes burning. "You ran out of that auditorium like the building was on fire. I wanted to see what was so important you'd rather be anywhere else than near me."

"Go away."

"No." Another step. "Who was that? What happened?"

"None of your business."

"Everything about you is my business." He was

close now, too close, crowding my space without touching me. "You think I didn't notice? You think I haven't been watching? You don't eat. You don't sleep. You work three jobs and still look like you're one breath away from collapsing. And now you're standing in a hospital screaming at someone who tried to help you. What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me ?" I laughed, broken and sharp. "You forced me onto that stage. You made me crawl. And now you follow me to my sister's hospital and ask what's wrong with me ?"

"I didn't make you do anything. You chose to apologize."

"I had no choice!"

"There's always a choice." His voice hardened. "You just chose the easy one. The one that keeps your head down and your mouth shut. The one that lets you keep being a victim."

I slapped him.

The sound cracked through the corridor. My palm stung. His head snapped to the side, and for a moment, neither of us moved.

Then he turned back to me, slowly, and his eyes were not angry. They were lit with something darker, something that made my breath catch.

"Do it again," he said softly.

"What?"

"Hit me again. Scream at me. Fight me." He leaned in, close enough that I could smell his cologne, feel the heat of him. "Because that's the only time you look at me like I'm real. When you're fighting. When you're furious. The rest of the time I'm invisible. Just another rich bastard you can dismiss."

"You're not invisible," I spat. "You're unavoidable.

You're everywhere. In my classes, in my symposium, in my email, in my….." I stopped, catching myself.

"In your what?" His voice dropped, intimate and dangerous. "In your head? In your dreams? Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you don't wake up thinking about me."

"You're delusional."

"And you're a liar." He reached out and gripped my chin, not hard, but firm enough that I couldn't look away. "I see you, Ariana. I see the way your hands shake when I'm near. I see the way you watch me when you think I'm not looking. You want to hate me. You need to hate me. Because if you didn't, you'd have to admit you feel something else."

I jerked my chin free. "I feel disgusted. I feel contempt. I feel —"

"What?"

"Trapped!" The word tore out of me. "You make me feel trapped. You show up everywhere. You buy your way into my life. You sit outside my apartment at 2 AM like you own the street, like you own me —"

"I don't sit outside your apartment."

I froze.

He blinked. Then his expression shifted, something flickering across his face, confusion, then darkness.

"Ariana," he said slowly. "I don't sit outside your apartment."