Chapter <b>168 </b>


    The room buzzed with excitement, models rushing in and out, makeup artists giving final touches, and stylists fixing hems and smoothing sequins. It was showtime.


    Nivera’s pulse thudded inside her ears as a crew member adjusted the straps of the deep emerald gown.


    The fabric hugged her in all the right ces, shimmering under the soft backstage lights.


    The show was moving like clockwork, the air filled with the chaotic but controlled rhythm of stylists, models, and coordinators barkingst–minute instructions.


    “Final walk,dies. Remember–grace, poise, attitude,” the coordinator barked, pping his hands for emphasis.


    Nivera drew in a steadying breath. This was it. Her return. Her chance to prove she wasn’t done.


    When her name was called, she squared her shoulders and stepped out.


    The instant the blinding lights of the runway hit her, instinct took over. Her hips swayed naturally, her posture was impable, and her gaze locked forward with the fierce confidence she had been trained for.


    The audience was a blur of faces and shes, but she could feel their energy. It was electric.


    As soon as she was off the stage, she was quickly changed into the second outfit, after which she waited for her turn again.


    On her second walk, though, something snapped her concentration.


    Her


    eyes flickered toward the front row, and her breath caught. Damon. Sitting. there in all his arrogantposure, his gaze locked on her. But that wasn’t what made her stumble internally–it was the man beside him.


    Alejandro.


    0613


    Her Alejandro.


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    The man she had been assured was bedridden. The man who was supposed to be resting, eating soup, and taking his damn medication.


    And yet here he was, suited up, wless as ever, seated beside her past and watching her with those blue, intense eyes that burnt through everyyer of her.


    Her heart fluttered wildly, a mix of fury and a traitorous warmth that made her want to scream with joy.


    He came for her. He ignored his pain and came to see her. And she hated that part of her was relieved because he had lied–no, worse, he had let the helper lie for him.


    She clenched her jaw. She would kill him–absolutely kill him. But God, the way his eyes were fixed on her, like she was the only thing in the room… she shoved the thought aside before it burned her alive.


    Her pace never faltered. If anything, her walk sharpened, fiercer, as though she was strutting straight at both men–daring them to look away.


    She hit her pose, turned, and stalked back, her expression cool even as her insides twisted into knots.


    The show reached its climax. Nivera was thest to walk, closing it as nned. When she finally stepped off the runway for good, apuse thundered behind her, and relief surged in her chest.


    When it was over, the models filtered offstage,ughter and chatter filling the air.


    Compliments buzzed around her, stylists patting her back, someone shoving a bottle of water into her hands to cool down.


    She gulped it down as her throat was parched, every nerve still on edge. She had done it; she had survived and had conquered the stage.


    As she ced the bottle down, Celeste approached her.


    “You did well,” sheplimented. “The designer wants to meet with you to discuss future prospects with you, but first he’s having a general meeting with the


    WE


    other models,” she informed her.


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    “Sure, I’ll meet up with him, but first I’ve got to go use the restroom,” Nivera said.


    “Hold the fort down for me.”


    “Sure,” Celeste responded, and Nivera immediately headed to the restroom.


    She was halfway to the restroom when a faint creak echoed from the corridor leading to the back storage rooms.


    Strange, Nivera thought to herself. That hallway wasn’t in use tonight.


    “Nivera!” She slowed her pace when she heard her name being called.


    She looked around, but there was no one there. Everyone was busy with the aftermath of the show, so who could have called her name?


    Curiosity got the best of her, and her footsteps echoed softly as she turned towards the direction where the sound hade from.


    The hallway was dimly lit, shadows pooling along the edges. She frowned. “Hello?” she called quietly, thinking maybe a crew member had slipped away.


    There was no answer.


    Why was she wasting her time when she had things to do? With that in mind, she turned and headed for the restroom. It was empty when she got there, and she moved to do her business.


    Once she was done, she moved to the door, grasped the handle, and twisted.


    However, it didn’t budge.


    “What the hell?” she muttered, trying again. She was locked inside.


    Who the hell would lock a restroom? She thought to herself as her stomach dropped.


    “Hello, is anyone there?” She called out as she began to bang the door.


    “Nivera…” She heard a faint whisper, and her blood ran cold.


    Her name. Someone had whispered her name again.


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    Her breath quickened, and she looked around, scanning every stall to see if she had missed someone.


    “Nivera…”


    This time it was louder and closer.


    “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I’m imagining this. I’m just tired.”


    But then she saw it, a shadow underneath the door from the other side.


    Her chest seized.


    “Who’s there?” Her voice shook despite her effort to sound steady. “This isn’t funny.”


    No response. Only that creeping whisper again, softer, almost coaxing.


    Her hands trembled as she backed up toward the door, heart hammering.


    The knob suddenly rattled under her grip. She shrieked, stumbling back-


    And the door swung open.


    Damon stood there.


    “Nivera?” His brows furrowed at her panicked expression. “What happened?”


    Her words tumbled out in broken gasps. “Someone was–was here. I heard–my name. The door–it was locked, and-”


    Damon’s brows furrowed deeply. He nced around, his stance instantly defensive, protective. “Someone?” His voice was low. “Where?”


    She gestured wildly. “They whispered my name! They-” Her voice broke off as she rushed out of the restroom. Her eyes searched the corners. But nothing. No


    one.


    Damon moved down the hall swiftly, checking the doors, pushing them open one by one. Empty storage rooms, empty utility closets. He returned, shaking his


    head. “There’s no one here.”


    “No. No, I heard them. I swear I-”


    face was


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    “Maybe it was nerves,” Damon said softly, his hand brushing her arm in reassurance. “Shows can mess with your head. The adrenaline, the noise, the pressure-”


    “I’m not imagining things!” she snapped, paning her voice. Her nails dug into her palm. She felt small and cornered.


    “I know what I heard!” she snapped, the panic bleeding into anger. But even as she said it, doubt gnawed at her chest. Had she imagined it?


    Her heart was still racing when another voice cut through the air.


    “Cabezota?” Her head whipped to the side–and her heart leapt. Alejandro.


    He was striding toward her, Martins beside him. His face was carved with concern and tension.


    In his hand, a bouquet of flowers that looked like it had just been bought, though it dangled almost forgotten. His eyes zeroed in on her, on the tremor in her


    stance.


    He stopped dead when he saw her standing with Damon, his gaze darkening instantly.


    Jealousy poured off him like a storm cloud, but then his eyes sharpened on her trembling hands, her face, which had lost its colour.


    He refused to pay any attention to the asshole, for his gaze was entirely on hers.


    He reached her in seconds, his hand cupping her face. “What happened?” His voice was low and urgent, the kind that demanded the truth.


    “She said someone was here,” Damon answered before she could. “But there’s nothing.”


    Alejandro’s gaze flicked to him, then back to her. “Nivera, look at me. What happened?” He inquired, wanting to hear it from her.


    Her throat tightened. “I heard someone. They were calling my name. And the door was locked. Damon says there’s no one, but I…” Her voice broke. “I know what I heard.”


    Alejandro’s jaw tightened, his gaze darkening dangerously. He turned


    immediately to Martins. One look was enough. Martins gave a sharp nod and hurried down the hallway without hesitation.


    Meanwhile, Damon still stood there, watching the two of them, his jaw ticking. “I checked already. There’s nothing. She must have-”


    Alejandro’s re sliced toward him like a de. “You can go now. I don’t think you’re needed,” he said, immediately turning his attention back to Nivera, making the situation weird for Damon.


    Alejandro turned back to her, softer now, his thumb brushing her cheek as if grounding her. “Breathe, Cabezota. You’re safe. I’m here.”


    She wanted to protest, to shove him away, but her body betrayed her. She clung to his presence like it was the only solid thing in a spiraling world.


    Minutester, Martins returned. His subtle shake of the head said it all.


    No one. Nothing.


    Alejandro caught it, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t argue in front of her. Instead, he slipped the bouquet into her trembling hands and said, “We’re leaving.”


    “But-”


    “No.” His voice was final. “If anyone here sees you like this, it’ll be on every tabloid tomorrow. You want that?<b>” </b>


    Her chest heaved. She hated that he was right. She hated even more that she needed him.


    Without another word, Alejandro wrapped an arm around her and guided her out, shielding her from the world.


    Damon’s stare burned into their backs as they disappeared through the <b>exit</b><b>, </b>but Alejandro didn’t spare him a nce.


    All that mattered was the trembling woman at his side.


    And whoever the hell had dared to make her scare the hell out of her.