ISLA~
“Proceed” the judge said.
Micheal turned toward Sterling, Chris’s lawyer.
“My client has never publicly accused Mr.
Maxwell of leaking any footage.
Public speculation cannot be attributed to Ms.
Jones—” he said, directing his focus to the judge “—Simply because she did not respond to every rumor circulating online”
Sterling didn’t flinch, just smiled “Exactly your honor” He turned toward the gallery, playing to the spectators.
“If Ms.
Jones truly had no reason to suspect Mr.
Maxwell, then why was he removed as her manager immediately after the footage surfaced?Why was he scrubbed from her life like a stain if she believed in his innocence?.”
Silence filled the court room.
I looked at Micheal again.
He couldn’t answer that—not when the contract, the only thing that explained the label’s iron-fisted damage control policies, had been ruled inadmissible.
Sterling shifted his focus to Elara.
That’s when I noticed it.
Her chest was rising and falling in shallow, jagged hitches, and her hands were gripping the edge of the witness stand so hard her knuckles were white.
“Ms.
Jones” sterling continued,now turning his focus to her.
“Did you take any action at all to correct the narrative that Mr.
Maxwell leaked those videos?
Did you put out a statement?
A tweet?
Anything to save the man who made you?”
She had her eyes closed.
Of course she’d rather die than show people that part of her.
“No,” she whispered.
She opened her eyes, and for a fleeting, desperate second, they found mine.
I should do something but—
“And you were aware that the public believed he did?”
“Yes” she gripped the edge of the witness stand, turning her focus to Sterling again.
“So you allowed him to be publicly blamed while you remained silent.
You were just going to let him drown, so you could stay afloat?
Is that correct?”
She didn’t answer the question and I could tell from the way she was breathing now that I had to move.
I had to go out of line for her again, professional optics be damned.
This was her life and above all she was my client.
But the moment I took a step forward, Chris sprung to his feet.
“She’s having an attack!” his voice booming with fake fatherly concern.
I halted and looked at him as he faced me.
“Her inhaler!
Where is it?
My God, Isla.
She’s suffocating”
The bastard.
He was doing it.
In one move, he had saved her and branded me as the negligent, heartless manager who didn’t even notice her client struggling to breathe a few feet away.
The courtroom erupted into murmurs.
I rushed toward the stand, pulling the spare inhaler from my suit pocket.
As I pressed it into her hand and guided it to her lips, I looked at Chris.
He didn’t smile.
He kept that look of frantic, agonizing care on his face, playing the ‘better man’ for the cameras.
Elara dropped the inhaler her breathing only getting worse.
I rubbed my hands on her back.
“Breathe in, slowly,” I whispered, my back to the room, creating a small wall of privacy for her.
“And out.
Follow my lead, Elara.
Again.
In…
and out.”
Her eyes were tear-trimmed and I couldn’t help but feel bad for her.
All this pressure and her weakness decided to show, and in public.
“Recess!” the judge yelled hitting his gavel “Thirty minutes.”
We were taken to a room behind the court house.
The door shut behind us, cutting off the noise of the press.
I guided her to the small leather sofa by the right.
My mind racing.
I handed her a bottle of water, then pulled out my phone, pretending to check emails, anything to maintain the professional distance I felt slipping through my fingers like sand.
I was battling a dozen different impulses at once.
CRACK.
I didn’t even realize my fist had moved until the pain radiated up my arm.
I’d slammed it into the drywall, imagining Sterling’s smirk or Chris’s “hero” face beneath my knuckles.
“Isla.”
A light touch on my shoulders followed and I flinched turning to find her standing there.
She looked pale, but the whistling in her chest had subsided.
“Sorry about Chris” she said softly “He was never like this…
or maybe I just didn’t see it.”
“He was right,” I muttered “I hesitated.
That was wrong of me.”
”And if you hadn’t, I would’ve been pissed at you for making me look weak,” she countered.
She was a case study in contradictions, truly.
She took my hand, the one I’d just used to punch the wall.
Her skin was cool, her touch agonizingly gentle as she stroked the reddening knuckles.
“Does it hurt?” I looked at her, and my body betrayed me instantly.
My pulse spiked.
“It does.”
I could smell her perfume, faint and floral, mixed with the medicinal scent of the inhaler.
This was the closeness I’d been running from.
I withdrew my hand sharply, stepping back.
“Don’t ruin this by walking away.
Again.” she grabbed my shirt “I do not need a manager now, Isla”
“But that is what I am to you”
“You say that like you’re killing the act.” She snapped, letting go of my shirt.
“You disappear like a coward, come back, give out one of those classy lines of yours only to leave me thinking… what is this?
Am I just a scandal for you to fix?”.
“This is really not a good time, Ms.
Jones.
We have a cross-examination to finish.”
“And there you go again with that formality crap!” she turned toward the door.
“And what is it you want to know?”.
I asked, my voice rising as I trailed after her.
“The truth” she opened the door.
I shut it before she could pull it open fully.
My hand braced against it.
“What truth?”
She looked up at me.
Her eyes were still wet, but she refused to let the tears fall.
“I want to know why you look at me like I’m something you hate and something you want at the same time.
Why you always run away after every real word we speak.
What you meant when you said…” she pushed against my chest, her voice breaking as a single tear finally escaped, “…that you couldn’t think when you were close to me.”
“Forget everything I said,” I whispered, the guilt gnawing at my insides.
“It’s what’s best for both of us.”
”You think I haven’t tried?” The room fell into a silence so heavy I could hear the clock on the wall ticking.
“You make me feel things I don’t want to feel, Isla.”
“I’m sorry”
“Sorry?” She looked at me, her expression crumbling.
“So that’s just it?
An apology?”
I knew if I kept my mouth shut, she’d walk out that door, and we’d go back to the courtroom and the suits and the lies.
And all this would be just another stupid conversation.
But she was pushing me.
She was standing in the middle of the fire I’d started, asking me why it was burning.
“You think I enjoy this?” I asked quietly.
“Enjoy what?” her brows furrowed.
“This,” I gestured between us.
“You pushing, me holding back.
You asking questions I can’t answer.”
“Can’t… or won’t?”
“You don’t understand what you’re asking”
“Then explain to me.” she stepped closer “For once Isla, just explain something instead of acting like you’re always ten steps ahead of everyone.”
I scoffed “If I were ten steps ahead, you wouldn’t be standing here questioning me.”
“You know what?
Forget it” she shook her head “I’m tired of trying to read you.
One minute you’re looking at me like I matter and the next you’re treating me like I’m just some assignment you can’t wait to finish.”
“That’s not—”
“Move, Isla.” she said avoiding my gaze.
I didn’t move.
The fear of losing that connection—as toxic and complicated as it was—hit me harder than any punch.
I looked at her, seeing the genuine hurt I had caused, the way I kept pulling her closer only to push her away again.
“Please move” she repeated her voice cutting through my thoughts, I could see the hurt in her eyes.
“Are you okay?” I asked softly.
She closed her eyes, a shuddering breath escaping her lips.
“Am I okay?
Isla, I’m standing in a courthouse being called a murderer and a traitor, my father is watching me fail, my lawyer is useless, and the only person I trust is someone who refuses to even look at me without a pair of dark shades on.”
She opened her eyes, and the raw honesty there shattered the last of my resolve.
”No,” she whispered.
“I am not okay.” I took off the shades I’d been wearing and met her eyes.
I wanted to tell her that I was the one who leaked the footage.
That I was the one who engineered the “fix.” That every move I made was designed to make her need me, and only me.
But the words died in my throat.
Because looking at her then, I realized that if I told her the truth, I wouldn’t just be the coward she thought I was.
I would be the villain.
I was never meant to want you Elara Jones.
Then her eyes dropped to my lips, and all hell let loose.
Yeah… this chapter stressed me out too.
What are your thoughts?