C15 Exposed Facades

“You don’t communicate after I speak to my wife,” Anthony growled, his voice low and menacing. “I’ve advised you limitless times to mind the commercial enterprise that will pay you.”

Noah, with a fireplace in his eyes, didn’t back off. He wiped the blood from the nook of his mouth and, without hesitation, threw a punch back. His fist slammed into Anthony’s cheek, sending him reeling.

Chaos erupted within the café. Chairs scraped the ground as humans stood up, eyes extensive, watching the scene spread. My heart pounded as both men lunged at each other, fists flying and grunts of pain and anger filling the small area. Plates crashed to the ground, and I may want to listen to the murmur of human beings nearby, a few gasping in surprise, others whispering.

“Stop it!” I yelled, dashing forward to pull them aside. But they had been too long gone, caught up in their war of pride and aggression. I grabbed at Anthony’s arm, trying to drag him again; however, his anger became like wildfire, spreading uncontrollably.

“Anthony! Noah! Stop!” My voice cracked as I attempted again, but it became like shouting right into a hurricane. Anthony shoved Noah, causing him to crash into a nearby table. Noah retaliated, slamming his shoulder into Anthony’s chest, each of them crashing into chairs and sending them flying.

Frustration boiled inside me as I attempted to push my way between them, desperate to stop the madness. “Enough!” I screamed, and subsequently, they pulled aside, respiration closely, evident at each other like wild animals. Noah wiped more blood from his lip, his chest heaving, and Anthony stood inflexible, his fists clenched at his facets, eyes blazing with fury.

I became on Anthony, my voice shaking with rage. “What the hell is incorrect with you? Haven’t you completed sufficient harm already?” My fingers trembled as I pointed at him, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. “You’ve ruined my existence, Anthony. You’ve torn me aside, piece with the aid of piece, and now you need to ruin the humans around me too? What more do you need?”

Anthony’s eyes flickered with something—guilt, perhaps—however, it became quickly replaced by anger. “Don’t talk to me like that in front of Noah,” he hissed, taking a threatening step toward me. “I’m your husband.”

I scoffed the word, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. “And so what? Noah is already aware of the whole lot approximately our so-called marriage. He knows it’s all a lie, Anthony! Everything is faux! What are you seeking to disguise? Your precious image?” My voice rose because the reality poured out of me, years of pent-up frustration and pain boiling over.

Anthony’s face contorted in fury. “Shut up, Mia. You don’t recognize what you’re speaking approximately.”

“Oh, I understand exactly what I’m talking approximately,” I shot again, stepping nearer, refusing to permit him to intimidate me. “You’re ruining yourself, Anthony. You’re destroying the whole thing around you, and for what? To hold up some ridiculous facade?”

Before I should even procedure it, Anthony raised his hand, the gesture sending a wave of cold worry through me. But I didn’t balk. I stood on my floor, eyes locked on his.

“One greater touch, Anthony,” I stated, my voice lethal calm. “One more contact, and I’ll pass directly to the click. I’ll inform them the whole lot—about our fake marriage, about Olivia, about the lies you’ve constructed your existence around.”

He froze, his hand suspended in the air, his eyes widening in surprise. For the first time, he looked truly scared. The threat of publicity hung between us, heavy and suffocating. His hand dropped to his aspect, and he took a step again; his face faded.

“You wouldn’t,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to live sturdy. “Try me.”

The café had long past been eerily silent. Everyone around us turned into looking, ready. Anthony stood there, completely still, his mind virtually racing. For a second, he seemed like a distinct person—a person who had sooner or later realized he was on the brink of losing the whole thing. His picture, his recognition, his management over me—it changed into all crumbling.

Noah stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder, a silent display of help. “You heard her, Anthony. This ends now.”

Anthony’s jaw clenched, and he appeared between the two people, his eyes flashing with anger and desperation. But he knew he had become trapped. Slowly, he exhaled, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I’ll… I’ll fix this,” he muttered, although his voice lacked conviction. “I don’t need to lose you, Mia.”

I shook my head, my coronary heart heavy with exhaustion. “You’ve already misplaced me, Anthony. The moment you permit things to spiral out of control, the instant you position your satisfaction before the whole lot else—that’s when you misplaced me.”

He appeared like he wanted to mention something, but the words by no means got here. Instead, he became and walked out of the café without another word, leaving Noah and me status inside the wreckage of what had just spread out.

I set free a shaky breath, feeling the burden of the instant crash down on me. I was worn out—tired of fighting, bored with pretending, bored with keeping directly to something that became in no way actually to begin with.

Noah squeezed my shoulder lightly. “You did the right element, Mia.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t certain what the proper thing even changed into anymore. “I don’t recognize what to do next.”

Noah gave me a small, reassuring smile. “You don’t have to figure it out right now. But whatever you make a decision, you don’t need to do it on my own.”

For the first time in the long term, I felt a small glimmer of desire. Maybe I didn’t prevent this conflict on my own. Maybe there was a way out—a way to reclaim my existence, my freedom, and my future.

A few days later, the anxiety became palpable. The video of Anthony and Noah’s fight had by some means made its way into the office area, creating whispers and murmurs wherever I went. It wasn’t just a minor scuffle anymore; it became the situation of each verbal exchange, and the embarrassment clung to Anthony like a shadow. I ought to see it in his face when he walked into the room—the stress, the frustration. His eyes darted around as if attempting to find answers for someone guilty.

Later that afternoon, Anthony referred to it as a mandatory meeting in his office. Everyone who was in the café that day, including Noah, was there. His voice was tight with controlled anger as he addressed us.

“I don’t realize who notion it'd be a great concept to movie that incident,” Anthony began, his eyes sweeping across the room. “But it’s out. It’s circulating on this building, and it’s unacceptable.”

I sat near the lower back, seeking to keep away from his gaze, feeling the anxiety within the room tighten like a noose. People shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, averting eye contact. Noah stood beside me, palms crossed, his expression unreadable.

Anthony slammed a hand down at the table, making all and sundry cringe. “I want the person that made that video to leap forward now,” he demanded, his voice bloodless and menacing. “Or else I'll, in my opinion, make sure everybody in this room pays for it.”

Silence accompanied his phrases. No one moved. No one dared to respire too loudly. My heart raced, wondering who could have dared to movie that scene and distribute it. Anthony wasn’t simply indignant—he was humiliated, and that became risky.

After what felt like an eternity, a hand slowly raised from the return of the room. It was one of the dancers from the enjoyment group—a young man named Alex, who had been with the corporation for some years. He turned into proficient, vibrant, and unapologetically himself. I constantly favored him for his boldness, but now his face turned into light as he stood up.

“I made the video,” Alex admitted quietly, his eyes flickering with fear.