CHAPTER 223: CHAPTER 223: THE WEIGHT OF CONSEQUENCES

~Evric’s POV~

"WHAT?!" Zayn screamed, his hands flying up and pushing me back in pure, disbelieving shock. I slid off his lap, landing awkwardly back in my seat.

His face was ghostly pale, his eyes wide and fixed on mine. "You are joking, right? This is not funny, Evric! Say you’re joking!"

My heart was hammering against my ribs, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. "I’m not joking, Zayn. It’s done. I already did it."

The disbelief drained from his face, replaced by a terrible, cold realization. He started shaking his head slowly, tears of panic welling in his eyes.

"You—you wouldn’t," he whispered, the sound thin and broken. He leaned forward, his voice rising to a frantic pitch. "Evric, your career! You wouldn’t want to destroy your future for a stupid love!"

That word—stupid—hit me harder than any threat from the blackmailer.

"It’s not stupid, Zayn," I whispered back, a tear escaping and tracking down my cheek. "It’s my life. And I did it because I was terrified of losing you. They said they would make you leave, and I decided if we were going down, we were going down together. But we are going down as a couple."

"My God," Zayn muttered, clutching his head. "My mother. Your father! Evric, you have ruined everything! You didn’t even consult me!" He turned his face away, unable to look at me, the full weight of the public exposure crashing down on him.

The pain in his voice shattered me. I pleaded, "I’m sorry, baby, but you’re my everything. Without you, I have nothing—you might not understand, but you mean the world to me." My voice cracked as I broke down, covering my face with my hands. "I love you so much... more than I could ever put into words!"

Zayn didn’t soften; he grabbed my wrist, yanking my hand away. His voice trembled with fury. "Is that love really worth losing everything? Why didn’t you tell me before you did it? Was it worth it?!"

I roared back, desperation breaking through. "Was it worth it, Zayn? It felt right to me! Was it worth it when you sacrificed your restaurant for me back then?!"

He looked at me. "This is different, Evric! Don’t you get it?" he cried, his face twisted with despair.

"How is this different? Tell me how this is different!"

"No! I don’t want to believe you! Where is my phone?!" he shouted, frantically searching the seat beside him.

I took Zayn’s phone, which was still on the passenger seat beside me, and put it out of his reach on the dashboard. "I already did it, Zayn."

He collapsed back against the leather seat, burying his face in his hands. "You could have asked Evans for advice first!"

"No! I didn’t want anyone’s advice!" I shouted, slamming my hand against the steering wheel in frustration. "Yes, I’m immature—maybe I even acted like a child! But I’m protecting my home, Zayn! In the end, it’s just the two of us. Why should I need anyone else’s advice?"

Zayn cried out, his hands covering his mouth, the sound muffled and agonizing. "You don’t get it, Evric! This will have a huge impact on you! It’s not as easy as you think!"

I reached across the console and pulled him into a fierce, desperate hug. I didn’t care about the consequences. "I don’t care! I’m ready to face everything, as long as you’re with me, I’m not afraid of anything!"

I was ready for more condemnation, but instead, the fury in Zayn’s body seemed to drain out, leaving behind only exhaustion and profound sadness. He slowly detached from me, his shoulders shaking with silent, painful sobs.

I watched him, my own throat closing up. I couldn’t touch him yet; I had to let the magnitude of what I’d done settle between us.

After a long minute, Zayn pulled his hands away from his face. His eyes were red-rimmed and filled with tears, his voice raw but controlled. "You shouldn’t have done that, babe," he whispered, the quiet disappointment hitting harder than his earlier rage. "You shouldn’t have thrown away everything your father built for... for me. That was a mistake, Evric."

He finally looked at me, his eyes pleading for me to understand the gravity of the situation. "I know you love me. I know you were scared. But that was impulsive. You know the world isn’t ready for this. You know how much power your father has, and you just neutralized his entire defense strategy. Now, we are completely exposed."

His words pierced the protective bubble of my fear and forced me to face the reality of my actions. He was right. I hadn’t just made a public relations misstep; I had made a business decision that could cost me everything.

"I know," I admitted, my voice thick with defeat. "I know, Zayn. It was stupid. I just... I saw that message, and I saw you packing your bag in my head, and I panicked. I panicked because I choose you over the company, and I wanted the world to know they couldn’t take you away."

I reached out, my fingers tracing the tear tracks on his cheek. "What’s done is done. You can’t undo a worldwide post." I let the silence hang there, acknowledging the finality of my choice.

Zayn took a deep, steadying breath, his emotional storm finally receding. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, his eyes now clearing with a desperate practicality. He had to be the strong one now.

"Okay," he said, his voice flat, accepting the irreversible. "Okay, Evric. What’s next?"

I slumped back, the adrenaline of my outburst crashing into crushing reality. The cold, hard truth was, I hadn’t thought beyond the posting.

"I don’t know," I admitted, the confession tasting like defeat. "I don’t have a plan, Zayn. I just did it. I’m ready to face whatever comes, but I honestly don’t know what comes next." I looked at him, my eyes pleading for forgiveness and partnership.

Zayn watched me speak, his sadness momentarily replaced by quiet resolve. He reached out, his hand resting firmly on my cheek. "It’s okay, baby. We’ll figure it out. Together," he said, his voice a steady anchor in the sudden storm.

Zayn moved across the console, his fear finally giving way to his protective instinct. He kissed me, a soft, restorative press of his lips, and then pulled me into a fierce hug. He didn’t say another word about my mistake; he just offered his solace.

It was in the middle of that embrace that my phone buzzed with an ominous sound. I knew who it was. I carefully reached for the device from the car’s center console and read the single, chilling text from my father.

"Come home. First thing in the morning."

I knew that tone. It wasn’t a request; it was an order, and the outrage behind it was palpable even through the text.

Without a word, I powered off my phone. Then, I reached for Zayn’s phone on the dashboard and switched it off too.

"We go home," I said, pulling him tight against my chest again. "We worry about nothing. We don’t look at the news, we don’t look at social media, and we don’t think about my father. Not until tomorrow."

I kissed his hair, needing him to agree. "Just us, babe. Tonight."

Zayn nodded, burying his face in my neck. "Okay, baby."

In the quiet cocoon of the car, with the dark water reflecting the distant city lights, we held onto each other. The world outside was spiraling into chaos because of my decision, but for the next few hours, we had bought ourselves a final, beautiful reprieve, facing the future wrapped only in each other’s arms.

********************

The next morning, as soon as we arrived at my father’s estate, the atmosphere felt tense and heavy. My whole family was there, my older brothers, my sister, and a few of my father’s serious-looking advisors gathered in the main hall, waiting with the grim silence of a courtroom.

Zayn and I walked in, and I felt his hand tighten around mine. We approached the center of the room, where my father sat, radiating silent fury.

"Father," I said, my voice steady despite the anxiety.

Zayn bowed his head slightly in respect, offering a polite greeting.

My father’s gaze, sharp and cold, passed over me and landed squarely on Zayn.

"Good morning, Zayn," he said, his tone utterly devoid of warmth. He paused, then gestured toward a quiet corner of the massive living room. "Wait here."

He didn’t give Zayn a chance to respond. Rogan simply turned his focus back to me. "Evric, you follow me. Now."