Page 79 of It's Not All Fake

As the interview ends, Chloe withdraws her hand from mine, snapping me back to a cold reality without her contact. She stands and, before I can say anything, she’s walking away.

I quickly stand up but my mother appears in front of me, blocking my path. “That was so sweet, hunny,” she gushes. “Wish me luck.” She fluffs up her hair, ready for her turn in front of the camera. Somehow, she didn’t notice how Chloe left—there’s something wrong.

I need to talk to her.

“Good luck, Mom. And thank you.” I give her a quick kiss on the cheek before rushing past her to catch up to Chloe.

I see her slipping out the front door as I pick up my pace, determined to close the distance between us.

As I reach the porch, she’s already halfway to her car parked beyond the media vans. It’s a dark night, with only faint lighting along the edges of the large stone driveway.

“Chloe!” I call out, closing the front door behind me.

She turns around, but there’s a hesitation, like she’d rather escape than talk to me. I know she’s hurting, but I don’t want her to push me away.

“Where are you going? Please don’t leave,” I beg as I reach her.

We’re finally alone. The media people won’t start loading back into their vans until they finish interviewing my mother.

“I can’t stay,” Chloe’s voice is tense and strained. “Didn’t you get what you needed?”

“Chloe, I’m sorry it got so personal,” I offer gently.

“It’s just business,” she brushes off my apology. “Do you know if they’re close to tracing the hacker?” she asks, trying to change the subject, her expression guarded.

I let out a heavy sigh. “They can’t trace it.” I shake my head, watching as she deflates with disappointment. “I’m so sorry.”

I reach out to comfort her, but she steps back. She holds up her hand, silently halting me as she gathers her thoughts. I feel a pang of sadness at her rebuff, but I know her mind is racing with this news.

“I’ll pay the ransom if you want me to, Chloe,” I say earnestly. “But there’s no guarantee they won’t leak the rest of the files. We can’t trust them to keep their end of the bargain.”

Chloe presses her lips together, her gaze intense as she considers my words.

“No,” she decides firmly. “He shouldn’t get a dime.” Beneath her controlled exterior, her anger simmers close to the surface.

“Okay,” I nod, relieved she’s not willing to cave to these criminals—or to her ex-boyfriend, if he’s indeed behind this. She’s convinced he’s involved, and she might be right.

A soft breeze catches a strand of her curly brown hair, fluttering it across her face. She brushes it aside. “I’m going to visit my dad for a while,” she announces abruptly.

The news catches me off guard.

“What? In London?” I ask, stunned.

She nods. “I’m sorry for the early break up.”

“This is a break up too?” I ask, my voice heavy with disbelief, not expecting the double punch. I’m utterly confused.

“This… arrangement isn’t working for me anymore,” Chloe explains in a business-like tone, still trying to restrain her feelings.

“What the hell, Chloe,” I blurt out, frustrated now because she wants to throw everything away. “Tell me what’s really happening,” I insist, desperate for her to connect with me.

She releases a sharp breath, her own frustration evident. “You want to know how I really feel?” she asks pointedly.

“Yes, please,” I urge.

“I feel like shit,” she confesses bitterly. “I just had to hear my eight o'clock client tell me how disappointing I am because I’m ‘getting paid to fuck a celebrity’—his words.”

Oh, damn.

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