The Road To You

Paul's hands clenched around the steering wheel, his knuckles white as he pressed his foot harder against the gas. The car roared beneath him, tires gripping the empty asphalt as he sped through the deserted streets. Each breath came sharp and uneven, his chest rising and falling in ragged intervals.

Nick's words still burned in his mind, each word cutting deeper than the last.

"I love Nick."

Jane's voice echoed through his head—a taunt, a challenge, a brutal confirmation of everything he had feared. His stomach churned, jealousy and helplessness swelling inside his chest.

He slammed his palm against the horn, the blaring sound shattering the silence of the night, but it wasn't enough. It did nothing to quiet the rage boiling under his skin.

"You are mine," he muttered, his voice barely above a growl, thick with anger and something more—something darker. His jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together as his vision blurred at the edges. "I won't let him take you away from me."

The words felt like a promise. Or maybe a threat.

His breath hitched as frustration built inside him, too much, too fast, like a dam about to burst. He slammed his fist against the dashboard, the sharp jolt of pain barely registering through the haze in his mind.

Nick had taken everything—his project, his love. Everything.

Paul let out a guttural scream, raw and unfiltered, the sound of his anguish tearing through the night. It echoed back at him, stretching the silence into something unbearable.

For the first time in a long time, he felt small. Powerless.

But not for long.

He wasn't going to let this happen. Not again.

Paul's thoughts spiraled, consumed by a fury that drowned out reason. Why should Nick get to have everything? Why him and not me?

The anger in his chest flared like wildfire, spreading, burning away every rational thought. He needed to do something. He had to. He couldn't—wouldn't—let Nick win.

His hand fumbled for his phone, fingers trembling as he scrolled through his contacts. His breath came out in ragged gasps, his pulse hammering against his ribs.

The phone rang. Once. Twice.

"Luke," Paul's voice shook as soon as the call connected. "We have to do something. Nick took everything from me. Everything. And now—now he's saying Jane is his girlfriend. He's trying to take her away from me, and I can't—I won't let that happen."

There was a pause on the other end, then Luke's voice, calm and measured. "Paul, you need to slow down. Listen to yourself. Jane isn't—she's not a thing you can take."

Paul's jaw clenched, his nails digging into the leather of the steering wheel. "You don't get it, Luke! She's been mine in my mind for so long! Before Nick even noticed her, I—I already loved her. And now he just—claims her?" His breath hitched. "He doesn't deserve her. He can't love her like I do."

Luke let out a slow sigh. "Paul, this isn't about who deserves who. Jane gets to choose. And I told you before—you can't obsess over someone you don't even know." His voice was firm, but there was something else underneath it. Hesitation. Fear.

Because he knew Paul. He had seen the drive in him—the hunger, the hatred. But this? This was something else entirely.

Paul barely heard him. The rage inside him had grown into something deeper, darker, consuming. "I can do something," he seethed. "I will." His voice was a low growl, thick with unshaken resolve. "No one—no one—can take her away from me."

"Paul." Luke's voice sharpened. "This isn't you. You have to stop before you do something you'll regret."

But Paul's mind was already made up. His heart pounded in his chest, a deafening drumbeat of rage and desperation. He had waited long enough.

"I'm going to make sure he regrets it," he muttered, more to himself than to Luke. His grip on the wheel turned iron-tight. "Jane will see the truth—who really cares about her. Who deserves her. I'll do whatever it takes."

Luke's breath caught. "Paul, don't—"

The call cut off.

Paul didn't care.

His foot pressed harder on the gas, the car roaring as it tore through the empty streets. Faster. Faster. The world blurred around him, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the fire burning inside him, scorching every last trace of doubt.

One thought remained, clear as day.

She will be mine—no matter the cost.

Nick's phone buzzed, the sharp vibration cutting through the quiet hum of the car. He glanced at the screen—his father. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he swiped to answer.

"Bring her home." His father's voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "Now."

Nick's stomach knotted. He had expected this call, but it still sent a wave of unease through him.

"What's going on?" he asked, keeping his voice level.

"I saw the news," his father said curtly. "I did some digging." A pause. "She's divorced, Nick." The words came laced with disapproval. "And now she's dating you? After what she did?"

Nick's jaw clenched. "Dad, whatever you think you know—"

"I want to speak to her," his father interrupted, his tone final. "Bring her home."

The line went dead.

Nick exhaled sharply, frustration simmering beneath his skin. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and stole a glance at Jane. She sat rigid in the passenger seat, her face turned toward the window, though she wasn't really looking at anything. Her fingers twisted together in her lap, a silent giveaway of her anxiety.

She had heard enough of the conversation to understand.

The weight of his father's judgment already hung heavy between them.

Nick's knuckles turned white against the wheel as he sped down the quiet road. He hated this. Hated that she had to go through this. Hated that, once again, people were ready to judge who she was without even knowing her.

"Jane," he said softly, breaking the silence.

She turned to him, her gaze weary, dull. "Hmm?"

"I won't let them ruin your name," he vowed, his voice steady despite the anger simmering underneath. "We'll fix this. I promise."

She let out a small, tired laugh—one without humor. "Nick, people believe what they want to believe." Her voice was quiet, resigned. "You can't fight their opinions."

His grip on the wheel tightened. "Then we'll make them see the truth."

She didn't respond. Maybe because deep down, she didn't think the truth mattered to people who had already decided what to believe.

When they pulled up to Nick's house, the tension only thickened. The soft glow from the windows spilled onto the driveway, but the warmth of home did nothing to ease the tight knot in Jane's chest. As soon as they stepped inside, the rich aroma of freshly cooked food filled the air, but it did little to mask the heavy atmosphere. The distant murmur of a television played in the background, but it might as well have been silent.

Nick's parents were already waiting in the living room.

His father sat in his usual chair—back straight, expression unreadable. A man in his late fifties, he carried the air of someone used to control, someone who measured every word before speaking. His mother sat beside him, graceful and poised, her gaze softer but still cautious.

Nick wrapped an arm around Jane's shoulders, a quiet but firm declaration of where he stood. "Mom, Dad, this is Jane," he said, his voice steady. "She's the woman I love."

Jane swallowed hard.

His father's eyes were sharp, assessing her like a puzzle he was trying to solve.

Nick's mother offered a polite smile, but it was hesitant, uncertain.

His father was the first to speak. "Nick." His voice was calm, but there was an undeniable weight to it. "You understand how serious this situation is, don't you?"

Nick's muscles tensed. "I do."

His father's gaze never wavered as he turned his attention to Jane. "And you, Jane?" He leaned forward slightly, his piercing stare cutting through the space between them. "You've heard the rumors, haven't you?"

Jane's stomach clenched. She already knew what was coming.

"The media has painted quite a picture of you," he continued, his voice steady but cold. "An opportunist. A woman using connections to climb the social ladder." His eyes bore into her. "A gold digger, to put it bluntly."

The words sliced through her, sharp and merciless.

Jane inhaled slowly, steadying herself, but the sting of the accusation clung to her like a shadow.

Nick stiffened beside her. His jaw clenched as he took a step forward, his body a silent shield between Jane and his father. "Dad, that's enough."

But his father didn't look away from Jane, as if waiting for her to defend herself.

Jane froze, her heart sinking in her chest. She wanted to speak, but the words felt trapped in her throat. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears. 

"And let's not forget the other rumors," he said, his tone growing icier. "You were dating Paul behind Nick's back, weren't you?"

Jane's breath hitched. She opened her mouth to protest, but no words came.

"How convenient," he continued, stepping closer. "You used Paul to get to the top, then turned to Nick when the truth came out. And now? Now that you've been exposed, you think you can just cling onto my son?"

The accusation struck like a slap. Jane felt a tear slip down her cheek, hot and humiliating. She wiped it away quickly, determined not to show weakness. But the sting of his words lingered, a deep ache settling in her chest.

Nick tensed beside her, his hands balled into fists, but his father ignored him, his gaze locked onto Jane.

"I've never seen a woman as vicious as you," he spat. "You've played this game for too long, and now you're trying to play it on my son." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "It's disgusting."

A lump formed in Jane's throat, but she forced herself to swallow it. She refused to let him see her crumble.

Nick slammed his hand against the table, the sharp sound slicing through the tense silence. "Enough." His voice was low, furious. His father turned to him, unfazed.

Jane inhaled shakily, gathering what little strength she had left. Her voice was quiet but firm when she finally spoke.

"I don't need to defend myself to you," she said, meeting his cold stare. "But I will say this—I have never used anyone. And I won't stand here and let you define me by rumors."

Nick's father scoffed, but she held his gaze. She had spent too much of her life being judged, whispered about, torn apart by people who didn't even know her. She was done being silent.

Nick's pulse thumped in his ears as he pushed himself to his feet, his body moving on instinct. Rage burned hot in his veins, tightening his fists at his sides. He stepped in front of Jane, shielding her from his father's piercing glare.

"Dad, enough." His voice was sharp, unwavering, a protective edge lacing every word.

His father exhaled slowly, his expression unmoved. "I know exactly what I'm talking about, Nick. Don't let your feelings cloud your judgment."

Nick let out a bitter laugh, his jaw clenching. "No. You're wrong. Jane isn't what you think she is. She's been nothing but honest with me, and I won't let you drag her through the mud because of some baseless rumors."

His father's lips curled in disdain. "And you really think she's worth fighting for?" His gaze flickered toward Jane before settling back on his son. "She's using you, Nick. Just like she used Paul. The moment you turn your back, she'll run to him."

"Stop." Nick's voice was dangerously low, thick with barely contained fury. His hands trembled at his sides.

Jane felt her throat tighten. Her vision blurred with tears, and she turned slightly, trying to hide the overwhelming ache rising in her chest. No matter how many times she had heard cruel words before, it never stopped hurting.

Nick saw it. And that was the last straw.

"You don't get it," he bit out. "Jane didn't even know who Paul was."

His father's brow furrowed, skepticism still etched deep into his features.

Nick took a deep breath, trying to steady the frustration clawing at his throat. "I was the one who invited her to my office. She had no idea Paul existed before that." His gaze flickered to Jane, who sat frozen, her fingers digging into the fabric of her dress.

His father scoffed. "And yet, somehow, she ended up kissing him in public?"

Nick's fists clenched. "Because Paul—" he exhaled sharply, trying to force his anger into words, "—Paul once spoke about a woman who saved his life. He didn't know who she was. He was searching for her. And then, that day in my office, he saw Jane for the first time."

His father's eyes narrowed.

"He behaved impulsively, irrationally. And somehow, in his twisted mind, he convinced himself that Jane belonged to him." His throat tightened. "But she didn't. She never did."

Nick turned to Jane, his heart aching at the way she sat there, her eyes glistening, her hands curled into fists against her lap.

"She's not some woman using people to get ahead," Nick said, his voice raw with emotion. "She never played Paul. She never played me. She was just caught in something she never asked for." He looked back at his father, his gaze hard. "And she doesn't deserve to be treated like this."

The room fell into a heavy silence. Jane blinked rapidly, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words came.

Nick's father stared at his son, his expression unreadable, his fingers tapping slowly against his arm.

Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter, though still laced with doubt. "And you're willing to risk everything for her?"

Nick straightened his shoulders, his grip on Jane's hand tightening. "I already have."

His father's silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter but no less firm. "I don't care, Nick. I will never accept her."

Nick's stomach twisted, but he stood his ground. "If you can't accept her, that's on you. But I'm not walking away from the woman I love just because of your petty accusations."

His father's expression hardened. "Then I guess you've made your choice."

Nick exhaled through his nose, steadying himself. He turned to Jane, his heart twisting at the sight of her tear-streaked face. He reached out, his fingers grazing her cheek, wiping away a tear with a gentleness that made her breath hitch.

Nick's mother sighed from the couch, her gaze softer, more hesitant. "I don't believe those rumors," she said gently. "But, Jane, the world isn't kind. And Nick's reputation is also at stake. This needs to be handled carefully."

Nick's jaw tensed. "I don't care about my reputation," he said, his voice like steel. "What matters is Jane's name. I won't let them destroy her over a lie."

His father crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Then how do you plan to handle it?"

Nick took a deep breath, the answer already forming in his mind. His grip on Jane's hand tightened as determination flared in his eyes.

"We're going to the media. We'll tell them the truth."

Jane's eyes widened slightly. "Nick…"

He turned to her, his gaze unwavering.

"I will make things right."