After the Storm

THE MORNING AFTER THE SCANDAL

Maks’s phone buzzed like a swarm of bees that had just downed an energy drink. PR teams, producers, journalists, three fans wanting to personally thank Liam for “speaking from the heart,” and some random guy claiming that “celebrities need to be kept in the basement so they don’t say stupid things.”

Maks entered the hotel room where Liam looked as if he had been run over by the tour, emotions, and a truck. In that order.

“Good morning,” Maks said, with the tone of a man personally tested by life. “Sit. We need to talk.”

Liam ran a hand through his hair. “If it’s about last night… I already know. It was a mistake.”

Maks almost exploded. “A mistake? A mistake? Man, you said on stage, in front of journalists, in front of the whole world, that you still feel something for your co-star. Who’s engaged. To an influencer. In the middle of your chaotic tour. Yeah, bravo, congratulations, that is… that is tactical mastery so exquisite it actually hurts me.”

Liam looked away. “I couldn’t tell another lie. Not anymore.”

Maks pinched the bridge of his nose. “Liam. You have three concerts in four days. The stadiums are sold out. Fans adore you, but the media… the media will roast you alive. And what do you think Alexander will do? Just nod? Wait? He has an army of lawyers, PR experts… and an ego you could use as a sundial.”

“I don’t care about Alexander,” Liam said coldly.

Maks stared at him as if he had lost his mind. “You should. Because that man will crush you without lifting a finger.”

ALEXANDER’S SUBTLE THREAT

In his sterile, over-precious office, Alexander leaned toward the window, his phone on the desk before him. His voice was calm, icy, almost friendly.

“Liam,” he said when Liam finally picked up, “let me make one thing clear: what you did last night… wasn’t smart.”

Liam didn’t react. “I didn’t call for smart.”

Alexander smirked faintly. “I just think I need to warn you. Sophie is my fiancée. Our future is arranged and stable. What you said yesterday was impulsive. Dangerous. And most importantly… not her responsibility.”

Liam went cold. “Don’t drag Sophie into your games.”

Alexander’s eyes narrowed. “On the contrary. You are the one who dragged her in. I won’t allow it. Stay on your tour. Do your music. And leave my woman alone.” He added a little sugar on top: “If not for me… then for her.”

The call ended.

Liam gripped the phone so hard his knuckles turned white.

THE PR STORM

The internet collapsed.

Journalists called.

Fans made videos explaining “why Sophie and Liam are endgame.”

Others attacked her for “cheating on Alexander.”

Some attacked Alexander.

Others attacked all of Hollywood.

Someone even remixed Liam’s confession with a slow-motion violin track.

Maks already had three migraines.

Film producers panicked about the “secret relationship of the cast.”

Liam had soundcheck, but his chest ached like hell.

SOPHIE IN HER DARK APARTMENT

Two days after the premiere, the apartment was still wrapped in half-darkness, as if it feared the light. Curtains drawn, phone muted, untouched food. Sophie sat on the couch, legs tucked under her, shoulders hunched, her gaze a hollow shadow of her former glow.

Claire sat beside her, gently massaging her hand as if holding someone who needed to be pieced together.

“Sophie… you need to eat,” she whispered.

Sophie nodded. “I can’t.”

Claire sighed. “Heart… this isn’t normal anymore. I know it hurts. I know you feel trapped. But… you can’t go on like this.”

Sophie squeezed her eyes shut. “Everyone’s talking about me. Everyone… judging. And I… I can’t breathe anymore. Alexander… he’s turning cold. And Liam… Liam shouldn’t have said that. He ruined everything.”

Claire held her. “No. Your pain has been here a long time.”

Sophie collapsed into her embrace. “I can’t take it anymore.”

AND THEN HER FATHER APPEARS

Viktor Hale stepped into Sophie’s apartment, the light barely strong enough to reveal two figures: Claire, standing upright only out of stubbornness, and Sophie, looking as if the wind could blow her away. Alexander’s engagement sparkle on her hand gleamed like a fox around her neck.

Claire stood before Viktor even fully closed the door.

“Good you came,” she said, her voice holding steady courage. “Sophie… this engagement is suffocating her. You want the best for her, I know. But Alexander isn’t that.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, a master of this kind of trick.

“What do you mean?”

Claire inhaled deeply.

“On set… someone sabotaged the saddle. Maks and I are still investigating. Sophie was supposed to ride that day. If Liam hadn’t swapped with her, she could have fallen. Seriously injured. Maybe worse.”

Viktor blinked slowly, as one should.

“So you’re hinting at Alexander… with zero proof?”

And at that moment, Sophie spoke. She didn’t turn. She just stared out the window, as if the air outside might save her.

“This isn’t a hint,” she whispered, barely audible. “He’s behind it.”

Claire froze. Viktor slowly turned to his daughter.

Sophie continued, her voice trembling but finally speaking the truth.

“I knew. He told me he knew what was going on between me and Liam. He said I had to accept his engagement… or he’d make sure something else happened. Not just the saddle.”

Viktor’s expression shifted slowly. Not an angry frown, but the ice-cold, deadly calm focus of a man who holds enough power to reshape an industry.

Claire approached him quietly, but sharply.

“Now you at least have a direction. Start with him. While you still can protect something.”

Sophie sat, barely.

Viktor observed her and for the first time in a long while, saw his daughter—not his investment in the future.

Finally, he said:

“Stay here. I’ll handle things.”

Claire nodded and escorted him to the door. When it closed, only Sophie’s shallow breathing could be heard in the apartment.

Viktor moved swiftly. His people searched the film crew with the precision of a forensic surgeon. One technician, the one who had handled the saddle that day, broke down faster than cheap wood. He confessed. Alexander paid him. Ordered it. Threatened.

Viktor just stood over him, listening to the confession, saying nothing. Then he left. The man collapsed—because it was worse than yelling. He knew he was now without work. Without the industry. Without anything.

When Viktor then entered Alexander’s office, the silence was thicker than concrete.

Alexander greeted him with a smile that had nothing to do with warmth.

“Viktor. I assume you’re here about… the media circus.”

Viktor returned a look that could freeze lava.

“Assume nothing. Here are the facts: it’s over. The engagement ring comes off. Sophie is free.”

Alexander’s smile crumbled to dust.

“She is engaged to me. You have no—”

“I do,” Viktor interrupted. “Everything I need. And more. Now we know what you did on set. You are no longer just my problem. You’ve become a problem for the industry.”

Alexander went silent. His eyes narrowed.

“Mistake,” he hissed. “A big mistake.”

Viktor stepped closer, without a single twitch.

“No. The mistake was yours. And it’s the kind that will cost you everything.”

And Alexander understood. Probably for the first time in his life.

Viktor turned and left, ready to finally protect his daughter—even from what he once thought was good for her.

Meanwhile, Sophie sat on the couch in her apartment, curled in on herself, Claire beside her.

The door opened. Viktor stepped inside and Sophie lifted her gaze.

“It’s over,” her father said. “You have nothing to do with him anymore.”

Sophie nodded slowly.

No tears. Too empty for them.

Claire gently took her hand.

The air finally shifted. And for the first time in a very long while, Sophie didn’t feel completely alone.