Page 42 of My Billionaire Boss Crush

I lean against the wall, gasping for breath, my emotions crashing like tidal waves against the fragile shore of my composure. The uncertainty of my unanswered questions hangs heavy in the air, leaving me feeling raw and vulnerable.

How on earth did that picture of Alex and I circulate the media so fast, and why now? He had booked the entire restaurant for our date last night, and there was no one else there but us, the chef, and our waiter.

Suddenly, a shrill, bitter voice pierces my mind. “You’ll pay for what you just said. I’ll gladly ruin your pathetic life for crossing me.”

I have no proof that Alex’s ex-wife did this, but everything in me tells me it was her doing. Who else could have done something like this knowing it could hurt me, Alex, or his company?

Feeling drained and utterly distraught, I keep my head lowered as I walk out of the building, ignoring the whispers, pointing, and sneering of my co-workers. None of their comments are anything I haven’t heard before, but I can’t help but feel guilty for the inconvenience I’ve caused Alex.

Worse, I left him alone in that room to sort out the mess I put us in. If I hadn’t insisted on getting him to confront his feelings for me, none of this would have happened. Now, his company is no doubt going to take the brunt of it all because of me.

They’re going to call Alex all sorts of names, especially when they find out that my father used to be his mentor. And they’re going to tear me apart as well. They’re already saying I seduced him to keep my job.

Without a single clue of what to do next, I get into my car and drive to the only place I know that I will always feel safe.

The large compound is as welcoming as the well-groomed house on this horrid day. I step out of my car and soak in the sun for a bit, willing the fresh tears threatening to fall away. I make my way toward the mahogany door and exhale loudly.

I knock on the door, luggage in hand, unable to keep the tears at bay no matter how hard I try. As soon as the door swings open, I sob softly. “Hi, Dad,” I whisper, feeling the weight of his concern and love overwhelm me.

He opens his arms wide, and I fall into his arms. “Everything is going to be fine,” he assures me.

I really hope so.

Chapter twenty-four

The Aftermath-Alex

Days have passed since the chaos of the press conference, and the absence of Blair weighs heavily on my heart. The constant whispers of the media haunt me, their judgment and speculation casting a shadow over the love we had carefully nurtured in secrecy.

I despise that she has become the target of their scrutiny, yet I am torn, unsure of what my next move should be.

I’m left with a hollow ache in my chest. The image of Blair, her eyes filled with hurt and uncertainty, as she ran from the room still haunts me. The weight of the media's judgment and the repercussions of our secret being revealed press heavily upon my conscience.

Every fiber of my being longs to find her, to shield her from the relentless backlash she's enduring. But doubt claws at the edges of my resolve, whispering that perhaps it's better to let her find her own path, away from the chaos that engulfs me. How can I be certain that pursuing her is the right thing to do?

Especially when she hasn’t been picking up her calls or responding to the texts I’ve sent to her.

The days pass in a blur of missed opportunities and regret. I find myself lost in a maze of conflicting thoughts, my heart yearning for her presence while my mind plays out scenarios of what might happen if I reach out. Will she welcome my intrusion, or will I only add to her burdens?

I hate the injustice of it all— how the media has turned her into a scapegoat, their harsh words tarnishing the beauty of what we shared. The world's judgment gnaws at me, a constant reminder of the risks we took and the consequences we now face. I wish I could shield her from it all, but the lines blur between my desire to protect her and my fear of causing her more harm.

In the depths of my uncertainty, I haven’t been to work since the press conference, even ignoring the meeting called by the board members to find a way forward.

I close my eyes, shutting out the world’s noise, and listen to the whispers of my heart. I recall the moments we shared, the stolen glances, the laughter, the way her presence lit up the room, and a surge of longing washes over me. I cannot deny the depth of my feelings for her, nor can I ignore the emptiness that lingers in her absence.

Steeling myself against the hollowness that threatens to consume me, I take a deep breath and reach for my phone. With trembling fingers, I compose a simple message, pouring my heart into each word. "Blair, I miss you. Please let me be there for you, even amid the chaos. I'm ready to face this together if you'll have me."

As I press send, a sense of relief and nervous anticipation washes over me. I pray that she at least responds to this text, or I’ll start searching the entirety of New York for her.

I’ve been to her apartment numerous times, hoping she’ll return one of these days, but there has been no sign of her. The only other place I’m sure she may be is her father’s house, and the thought of going to Gregory Osbourne’s house, especially after everything that happened with his daughter, fills me with dread.

A few minutes later, Summer walks into the living room and meets me, staring longingly at my phone. She and I haven’t really talked since she and the rest of the world found out about Blair and me, and it’s partly because I’m scared of what her reaction will be.

I can't help but feel a mixture of apprehension and hope. The memory of my painful divorce from her mother still lingers, and the idea of pursuing a new relationship feels like navigating a minefield. But Summer's presence here, with me, still gives me a sense of hope that maybe she doesn’t mind.

After all, she had been very vocal about her fondness for Blair ever since they met after her accident.

"Dad," she says softly, sitting beside me on the couch and looking into my eyes with understanding beyond her years.

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