Chapter 3

Holly Erickson POV:

The next day, Kade was still unreachable. His phone went straight to voicemail, and his texts were unanswered. I told myself he was busy, tending to Dani, that he needed time. But the cold dread in my stomach only intensified.

I ran into Chloe, Sarah's friend, outside the library. She gave me a sympathetic, yet strangely knowing look. "He's with Dani, you know," she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Dani had another one of her 'episodes.' Poor thing. Kade is always there for her. They are... incredibly close."

"I know," I said, my voice tight. "I was there."

Chloe just shrugged. "Oh, right. But you know, Kade really has his hands full with Dani. He can't be everywhere at once." She leaned in conspiratorially. "He was really upset about the whole Amelia Carpenter thing. She just won't leave him alone. And Dani... well, Dani hates anyone who takes Kade's attention away."

Amelia. Kahlil Carpenter's sister. The woman Kade had dated and then unceremoniously dumped, leading to her alleged mental breakdown. The same Amelia who had mocked Dani. The pieces started to click into place, forming a picture I didn't want to see.

Later that evening, I finally managed to reach one of Kade's close confidantes, Mark. He was usually jovial, but his voice was strained. "Look, Holly, Kade's got a lot on his plate. Dani's not doing well. The family... they're under a lot of pressure right now with the senator's re-election coming up. Any instability, especially involving Dani and... personal matters, could be disastrous."

"But what does that have to do with me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mark hesitated. "Look, Kade... he needs a shield. Something to divert attention. Someone who isn't... you know, Amelia. Someone to keep the rumors away from Dani."

The word "shield" hit me like a physical blow. My breath hitched. For some reason, I instantly knew what he meant. The bullying, the threats, even the kidnapping-it all flooded back, but now with a sickening clarity. The "danger" wasn't to us. It was to him and his family. And I was the convenient, unassuming target. The one who could absorb the blows without raising too many questions, distracting everyone from the strange, intense bond between Kade and his stepsister.

My blood ran cold. It will be dangerous. I remembered his warning, the chilling glint in his eyes. He hadn't been warning me for me. He had been warning me that I was about to become collateral damage. My head swam. I felt a wave of nausea.

I tried to call Kade again. This time, he picked up. His voice was tired, flat. "Holly, look, I can't talk right now. Dani needs me."

"Kade," I managed, my voice shaking. "Am I a shield?"

Silence. A long, agonizing silence on the other end of the line. Then, a sigh. "Holly, it's complicated. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," I said, my voice gaining strength, tinged with a bitterness I hadn't known I possessed. "Did you use me? Did you let them hurt me to protect Dani? To protect your family's image? To hide her obsession with you?"

Another silence. Then, his voice, devoid of emotion, a cold, hard truth. "Dani is vulnerable. The Carpenters are ruthless. They would use anything against us-especially rumors about our family dynamic. They've already done enough damage with Amelia. I had to protect her. I had to."

The words sliced through me, colder than any winter wind. He didn't deny it. He admitted it. The man I had fallen in love with, the man I had endured so much for, had deliberately put me in harm's way. He had watched me suffer, believing it was a necessary sacrifice to keep his stepsister happy and his family secret safe.

"Did you ever... did you ever care about me?" The question was a desperate plea, an attempt to salvage any shred of dignity, any piece of the beautiful lie I had built our relationship on.

"Holly, you're a good person," he said, his voice softer now, almost a placation. "But this... this is bigger than us. It's about family. It's about survival."

Survival. His survival. Dani's survival. And I was just a disposable pawn in their high-stakes game. My chest ached with a pain so profound it felt physical. Like a jagged piece of glass twisting inside me. My tears wouldn't come. There was only a hollow, echoing emptiness.

I ended the call. My apartment felt suffocating. I stumbled around, numb, until my phone vibrated again. It was my agent, calling from New York.

"Holly! Finally! I've been trying to reach you all day!" Her voice was bright, energetic, oblivious to the chasm that had just opened in my life. "The new K.B. Barry manuscript? It's a masterpiece! The publisher is throwing a launch party, they want you to fly out next week. And the film rights? They're going through the roof!"

K.B. Barry. The name felt alien, disconnected from the hollow shell I had become. The world-famous novelist, the literary genius. I had sought anonymity to escape the pressure, but also to find something real. To find love, a genuine connection, a person who would see me for me, not my success.

"Holly? Are you there? You sound... distant." My agent's voice was tinged with concern now. "Is everything alright? You've been so quiet since you started university. This whole 'normal student' thing, I knew it was a phase."

A phase. A disguise. A yearning for something I hadn't found.

"I'm fine, Sarah," I lied, my voice flat. "Just tired."

"Well, get some rest! We have a lot of work to do. This book is going to be your biggest yet. It's truly raw, emotional... I mean, the way you captured that mother-daughter dynamic, the grief, the betrayal... it's just incredible. It's going to be a game-changer for your career."

Grief. Betrayal. The words echoed in my ears, perfectly describing the raw wound in my chest. My most personal work, the one I poured my soul into after my mother's death, the one that explored the agonizing depths of loss and the crushing weight of hidden truths. It was a story I had written for myself, a way to process the trauma of my past.

My mother, a brilliant but controversial journalist, had been relentlessly targeted by powerful political families for exposing their corruption. She had been so high-profile, so loud, so visible. And then, she was gone. An "accident," they said. But I knew. I had been there. I had seen the threats, felt the fear. I carried the guilt of her brilliance, her refusal to stay hidden, her eventual, tragic end. I believed her visibility had killed her. So I chose invisibility for myself. I became K.B. Barry, the elusive male author, avoiding the spotlight at all costs. I chose anonymity to survive, to protect myself from the kind of power that had crushed my mother. I became a student of photography, a world far removed from the cutthroat world of politics and literature, hoping to find solace in capturing beauty, not creating controversy.

I thought Kade saw something different in me, something worth protecting for my own sake. But he hadn't. He had seen a conveniently plain, unassuming girl, a perfect target. A shield.

Just as my agent was giving me a rundown of the press tour, my dorm room door creaked open. Kade stood there, silhouetted against the hallway light. He was holding a small, delicate vase of white lilies, my favorite. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face pale and drawn. He looked exhausted, vulnerable.

"Holly," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I need to talk to you."

He hadn't heard my conversation with my agent, I was sure. But he had seen the pain in my eyes, the silent accusation.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "About everything. Dani... she's been having a really hard time. The pressure, the threats... I just... I had to." He looked so genuinely pained, so broken, that for a fleeting second, my resolve wavered.

Then, he reached out, his hand gently brushing my cheek. "Please, Holly. Don't leave me. We need you. I need you."

His words were a warm cloth on a freezing wound, but the warmth was deceptive. It was a comfort born of manipulation, a plea for continued service, not genuine love.

"We need you." The phrase echoed in my mind, a chilling reminder of my expendability. I looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw not the charming king, but a desperate man willing to sacrifice anyone for his stepsister.

He saw the realization dawn in my eyes, the last flicker of hope dying. His hand fell from my face.

"Don't worry, Kade," I said, my voice hollow, emotionless. "I understand. Dani needs you more."

He stared at me, his green eyes wide with a dawning horror. He finally understood.

"No, Holly, wait-" he started, but I cut him off.

"Do you love me, Kade?" I asked, the words barely audible, a final, desperate attempt to find a pulse in our shattered connection. I needed to hear it from him, one last time. I needed the lie, or the truth, to set me free.

He hesitated. His gaze darted away, then back to me. His jaw tightened. He looked away again, his silence screaming the answer I already knew. My heart, already shattered, splintered into a million tiny pieces. I felt a cold, crushing weight descend upon me, heavier than any fame, more suffocating than any disguise.