Chapter 6
Elara POV:
The accusation hung in the suddenly silent room, as absurd and poisonous as the first one. My mind reeled. How could they lie so easily, so brazenly?
Brooks' s gaze, cold as a winter sea, fell on me. On the blood trickling down my face, on the chaos surrounding me. He saw the scene, and in his mind, he had already written the script. I was the unstable, jealous interloper. Candice was the victim.
"Brooks, that's not what happened," I started, my voice trembling. "They-"
"Enough," he snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. He didn't look at his guests. He didn't look at the mess. He only looked at me, and his eyes were full of a deep, chilling disappointment.
"My head," I whispered, gesturing to the cut on my temple. "She pushed me."
Just then, a fragile, trembling voice cut through the tension. "Brooks…?"
Candice appeared at the top of the stairs, clutching a silk robe around herself, the very picture of a terrified invalid. "What' s all the noise? I was so scared."
In a heartbeat, Brooks' s entire focus shifted. The fury in his face melted away, replaced by that all-consuming concern. He rushed to the stairs, scooping her into his arms as if she were made of glass.
"It's nothing, baby," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing, a tone he had never used with me. "Just a little misunderstanding. Go back to bed. I'll handle it."
He carried her back to the master bedroom, leaving me alone to face his silent, seething judgment. When he returned, his face was stone.
"Take her to the listening room," he ordered his security guards, who had materialized silently at his side.
My blood ran cold. The listening room was in the basement. A soundproofed, windowless room where Brooks took his most sensitive business calls. A concrete box.
"And turn the music on," he added, his voice flat and devoid of any emotion. "Maximum volume."
"Brooks, no, please," I begged as the guards took my arms. "I'm telling you the truth. Look at my head. I'm bleeding."
He didn't even glance at the wound. He just looked through me, as if I were a pane of dirty glass. "You disturbed Candice," he said, as if that explained everything. As if that was the only crime that mattered.
They dragged me down to the basement, my pleas echoing in the empty hallway. They threw me into the dark, cold room and slammed the heavy door shut. A second later, the music hit me. It wasn't music; it was a physical assault. A deafening, bone-jarring bass that vibrated through the concrete floor, through the soles of my feet, and up into my skull.
My hands flew to my ears, but it was useless. The sound was inside me, shaking me apart from the inside out. My already fragile heart began to hammer in a wild, painful rhythm. The room started to spin. I crumpled to the floor, curling into a ball, trying to make myself smaller, trying to escape the relentless sonic attack.
Hours passed. Or maybe it was minutes. Time had no meaning in that black, roaring void. A sharp, searing pain shot through my ears, and I felt a warm, sticky wetness. I brought my hands away and saw they were covered in blood. My eardrums had ruptured.
Just as I thought I would lose consciousness, the door opened. The sudden silence was as shocking as the noise had been. Brooks stood there, his suit immaculate, his face unreadable.
"I trust you've had time to reflect on your behavior," he said, his voice cold and distant.
I couldn't speak. I could barely hear him through the ringing in my ears. I just stared at him, my body numb, my soul hollowed out.
"Don't ever upset Candice again," he warned, his voice low. "Her health is fragile. Any more disruptions, and you will be out on the street. Do you understand?"
I understood. I was less than nothing. My pain, my truth, my very existence was an inconvenience to be punished and suppressed.
A week later was Candice' s birthday. Brooks threw her a party that put all other parties to shame. The penthouse was filled with flowers, champagne, and the most powerful people in New York. He presented her with a necklace of flawless blue diamonds, a gift so extravagant it made the entire room gasp. He stood behind her as she blew out the candles on a cake that was a masterpiece of sugary art, his eyes filled with a love so pure, so absolute, it was breathtaking.
I stood in a corner, invisible, watching the man I loved adore another woman. It was in that moment, watching him look at her, that I finally, truly, let him go.
And then the world exploded.
A deafening boom shook the entire building. The floor-to-ceiling windows shattered inwards, sending a tsunami of glass and fire into the room. It was a bomb. A targeted attack from one of Brooks' s many enemies.
Screams filled the air. Chaos erupted. My first instinct was to find Brooks. My eyes scanned the room frantically and found him.
He hadn't moved. He had thrown his body over Candice, shielding her from the blast with his own back. He was her human shield.
Guests were screaming, running for the exits. But I was frozen, my eyes fixed on him. I saw the dark stain of blood spreading across the back of his white shirt. I saw the way he held her, his grip fierce and protective even as he was wounded. He would die for her. Without a second thought, he would die for her.
My breath hitched in my chest. I couldn't breathe. The air was thick with smoke and the metallic scent of blood, but it wasn't that. It was the crushing, absolute certainty of his love for her. A love I would never have. A sacrifice he would never, ever make for me.
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