Chapter 13
The internet turns again. Desperate to keep the noise loud.
Old clips resurface. New lies trend.
Sponsors continue to quietly back out.
It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon.
Sun trickles through my window. Cat basking in the sun.
My cup of tea steams in the corner and I turn through old recipe books from the 1950s.
A knock.
Rhythmic.
It’s Enrique.
At my door.
Unannounced. Unfiltered.
“I declined,” he says before I can even take his beauty in.
I blink.
“They threatened me,” he adds. “Blacklists. Lawsuits.”
I swallow.
“And?”
He steps closer.
“I fucked up. I want you. I choose you.”
