CHAPTER 31: CHAPTER-31. (DREAMS TURNED TO ASHES).

Yesterday’s conversation between Caroline and me was still on my mind.

I never liked being in the dark and craved being in control in every situation, but guess what? Nothing happens according to us.

If it had happened, then I would already be a divorcee, gone far away on a vacation. Instead, where was I?

Sitting beside Dave in his car. Grandpa Albert green signalled him to get back to his work, which apparently meant I was tagging along whether I liked it or not.

Well, I did not have any specific work there, just to keep an eye on him so as not to get triggered.

Grandpa Albert also made sure that only their trusted staff would be present on the set. They will also try to keep the others to prevent engaging with him.

Although Dave already had a cold-hearthtrob image as he always kept his distance from everyone. Not everyone got to get into his inner circle.

I tried, and of course, I failed miserably.

The drive was going quiet. Josh kept driving, honking in between, but other than that, none of us spoke. While Dave was busy reading his script, I kept scrolling mindlessly on my phone.

Also, I bought my laptop with me as I will be staying in his vanity van while he works. So, I also thought of continuing my work to continue.

And yes, just for the context, I sent the reply to the Silver Fox Agency.

It took me a lot of courage and the emotional stability of a raccoon in a dumpster

to do it.

Now, I was waiting for it with the patience of a cat watching a fishbowl.

The network was patchy on the way, so every time my phone screen lit up with a notification, my heart jumped like it was the reply... only to find out it was either a useless promo email or some application update notification.

I groaned in my frustration, covering my face with my hand, as I stared out, trying to distract my mind.

Dave flipped another page of his script, his eyes scanning the lines like he was dissecting them under a microscope.

Meanwhile, Josh kept honking at every other vehicle like the road was his personal racetrack.

The car’s rhythm. The hum of the engine, the occasional sharp brake, the rustle of Dave’s script pages should’ve been calming. Instead, it just amplified the noise in my head.

I pulled my hand away from my face and reached for my water bottle, taking a slow sip. The coolness helped, but my brain was still sprinting laps around the same thought:

What if they never reply?

What if this was a one-time fluke, a mistaken click?

Or worse... what if they did reply and it’s bad news?

There were no distractions. Just me, my overthinking brain, and two emotionally constipated men with me in this car.

The vanity van was going to be my safe zone for the day. My little bubble.

I planned to barricade myself inside, work on my laptop, and only peek out when Dave needed something or if curiosity got the better of me and I decided to stalk the set from the doorway.

I slumped back into my seat, glanced at Dave, then out the window, thinking if this day didn’t give me answers, I was going to dig them out myself, one way or another.

It took more than thirty minutes to reach our destination.

When we finally rolled into the set’s parking area, the first thing I noticed was the swarm of people and cameras.

Even with Grandpa Albert’s orders to keep things "low exposure," it still felt like a mini red carpet.

Dave’s bodyguards were already out of the car, which was following us. Seeing the number and build of those men clearly gave proof of how serious Grandpa Albert was.

Every man had a serious expression on their face, controlling the swarming crowd. They scanned the crowd as if they were preparing for a military operation.

He opened Dave’s door first. He slipped out of the car, not before covering his head with the big-sized hoodie cap he wore.

The crowd was ready to pounce on him any minute when they saw him.

For a minute, the thoughts returning back to the apartment felt safer. Before I could act on my intrusive thought to drive around, the other two bodyguards came on my side.

Opening the car door, I realized there was no turning back now. So, I too slipped on my mask before stepping out, grateful for the small shield it provided.

The sun was sharp, the air buzzing with chatter, the media people kept rambling questions like a mini rapid fire.

Some were asking to face the camera while others looked for confirming rumours about him.

"Dave, how’s shooting going for this project?"

"Any surprises on set today?"

"How’s your chemistry with the cast this time?"

"What can fans expect from your upcoming projects?"

But all I focused on was keeping my head down and following Dave’s lead when one specific question made me still at my position.

"Dave, are the stories about you and Becka true?"

Becka, the co-star. The one who I caught him with that night.

The night when everything I dreamed turned into ashes.

My feet froze mid-step, the words hanging in the air heavier than the camera lenses pointed at us.

For a split second, I forgot the mask on my face, forgot the crowd, forgot that I wasn’t supposed to react.

My chest tightened, and that scene from the hotel hallway came flooding back.

I was still in a haze of that as those scenes came in front of my eyes, moving like a film, when a grip was felt on my arm.

Dave’s hand was firm around my arm...not rough, but enough to pull me out of that fog before I made the mistake of stopping completely.

"Keep walking," he murmured, low enough for only me to hear, his tone clipped, like this wasn’t the place or time.

I forced my legs to move, my steps mechanical as we slipped past the swarm of cameras and into the safety of the set gates.

The noise dulled behind us, but my ears still rang with that one question, over and over, like it had been etched into my skull.

Inside, the air was cooler, quieter, but the weight in my chest hadn’t lifted.

Dave let go of my arm without a glance, walking ahead as if nothing had happened.

I slowed my pace, letting the distance grow between us. My fingers tightened on my bag strap, taking long, deep breaths to calm my mind.

You cannot cry here, Ele. I kept repeating it in my mind until my eyes landed on the person which I definitely did not wish to see.