[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":10},["ShallowReactive",2],{"viewer-data-2603220ECDF1-569":3},{"id":4,"number":5,"name":6,"content":7,"isLocked":8,"price":9,"hasRead":8},569,11,"Chapter 11: \"Why Call My Mother?\"","\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The corridor was long and oppressive, a narrow throat that seemed to stretch through time.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette pressed herself into Roman’s firm, possessive embrace, finding a strange sense of grounding in his proximity. She wrapped her arms around his waist, forcing her gaze away from the far end of the hallway where the shadow of her past loomed.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Let’s just grab a quick bite for lunch,\" she murmured, her voice steady. \"I still have to head back to the studio to review the footage.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Fine,\" Roman replied, his tone clipped but agreeable. \"Whatever you want.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He held her hand with a suffocating tightness, his fingers woven firmly through hers. The closer they got to the figure waiting ahead, the louder Violette’s heart drummed against her ribs. She wanted to suggest a detour—a dozen times over—but the words died in her throat. Doing so would only make them look guilty, so she let Roman lead her forward.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Just as they were about to brush past him, a voice cut through the air.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Excuse me, reporter.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette’s spine stiffened. She turned, her movements slow and deliberate.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Blake stood there, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. Aside from the raw, predatory intensity in his eyes, his tone and posture were perfectly composed. He tilted his lips into a faint, challenging smirk. \"Do you have a moment to talk?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette reflexively looked up at Roman. His eyes were as dark and unreadable as ever, his grip on her hand not loosening by a fraction.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"I can wait in the car if you need the time,\" Roman said, his voice smooth as oil.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Even though it was all happening right under Roman’s nose, Violette felt the prickle of a secret betrayal. Her heart hammered against her chest; her palms were damp. But then, she looked at Roman. His gaze was strangely, unnervingly gentle—a sharp contrast to the chaotic pulse in her veins. It reminded her of their marriage: mundane, quiet, and surprisingly consistent. She had already said her goodbyes to the past. There was nothing left to say.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette shook her head. \"Let’s go.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">To her surprise, Blake didn't try to stop them. He just leaned against the wall, his head bowed, seemingly indifferent. But the moment the hallway was empty, he slumped forward, his palm pressed hard against his chest. He didn't know why—he hadn't felt this sharp, suffocating agony when he’d heard she was married, but seeing it with his own eyes felt like a knife to the gut.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He gasped for air, his lungs burning like a dying fish on a deck.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">***\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette had intended to explain everything to Roman over lunch, but fate had other plans; a sudden crisis at V-Oasis pulled him away.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The meal was scrapped.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Back at the broadcasting station, Marilyn stopped by her desk and dropped a cup of coffee off for her—a silent gesture, sitting right next to the one Emma owed her from the morning.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"What's this?\" Violette asked, bemused. \"Need a favor?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Marilyn just patted her shoulder, her expression unreadable.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette sensed the shift in the air. During the lunch break, with the office largely empty, she pulled out her phone. The interview from The Tour that morning had already been sliced, diced, and scattered across the internet like confetti.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She had asked every question in that video herself, but the comments were a venomous sludge.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*This woman is so manipulative! She purposely brought up his leg injury. Blake is so kind—he probably didn't want the fans attacking her, so he played along on camera to downplay the injury. He’s just protecting her from the fallout. Stay away from him, you heartless witch.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*Funny, I never heard about their history before. She only pops up to cause drama when he wins, then vanishes when he loses. What kind of fan is she? I've been with him through his lowest lows.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*Fan? She’s a parasite. He hasn't played well since he started seeing her. Just disappear already.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*Wait… did anyone else watch the video? It looks like Blake is the one still begging for a second chance…*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*Yeah, right. Her PR team is working overtime today. Just wait, the narrative will flip to 'Blake desperately wants her back' by tonight. (Rolling eyes).*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*Some women just don't know how to stay faithful after they're married.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Having survived a public scandal a few months ago, Violette had developed a callous layer against the noise. She tossed her phone aside and rubbed her temples.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">A few seconds later, her phone began to buzz incessantly.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She glanced at the screen, groaned, and picked up. \"Hi, Mom.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"I'm at the station. We can talk tonight.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Because of Blake’s reappearance, the ripples she had worked so hard to smooth over were beginning to churn again.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">When she arrived at Bauhinia Bay that night, the television in the living room was on, playing something other than the local news. Charles looked up as she walked in, peering past her. \"Where's Roman?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Something came up at the office,\" Violette said.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Catherine poked her head out from the kitchen, her brow furrowed. \"Is it really work, or did you two have a fight?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"We didn't fight,\" Violette sighed.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Catherine clearly didn't believe her. She’d prepared a full dinner and even called Roman earlier, but he hadn't picked up, and he hadn't shown up. If that wasn't a fight, what was?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Catherine shot a look at Charles. After a long hesitation, he cleared his throat. \"We saw that interview from the arena today.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette hummed, heading to the bathroom to wash up.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Charles was the type of father who felt ill-equipped to handle such delicate topics, but under Catherine’s stern, glass-reflected glare, he braced himself. \"What’s going on with you and that boy?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"It was an assignment from the station director. It just happened to be me.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"He has international matches to play, why would he—\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"You'll have to ask him that.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Charles frowned. \"Does Roman know?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"He was there,\" Violette replied.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"...\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The conversation hit a dead end.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The sliding glass door to the kitchen wasn't exactly soundproof, and the pair’s dialogue had drifted right into the kitchen. Catherine emerged with the final dish, her face set. \"Let's eat.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette tried to lighten the mood. \"Don't be so gloomy, Mom. What's the matter?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Gloomy?\" Catherine snapped. \"I'm lucky I didn't have a heart attack this morning.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"I know, I know! I have nothing to do with him anymore.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The words had barely left her lips when her phone began to vibrate on the table.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette hadn't received a call from Blake in ages, and he’d changed his number after leaving for Australia. When the name \"Blake Pierce\" lit up the screen, the look on her face was more dramatic than anything her parents could have staged.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Nothing to do with him, huh?\" Catherine said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"...\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Up until this exact second, that had been true.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The phone rang and rang, finally falling silent.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Catherine set her chopsticks down, a look of grim determination on her face. She was about to speak when her own phone began to ring. She glanced down. The name on the screen was clear as day: *Roman*.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The moment she picked up, Violette noticed her mother's expression soften significantly. She spoke gently, asking if he’d had dinner, then said, \"Yes, Violette is here. Oh, you're coming to pick her up? Alright, alright, drive safely.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She was a different person entirely compared to the woman who had been lecturing her just moments before.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette looked down at her own phone.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Aside from the missed call from Blake, there were no new notifications. No texts.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">If Roman had something to ask her, why wouldn't he just message her? Why go through the trouble of calling her mother?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">It couldn't be…\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette stared at the screen, a chilling realization dawning on her.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Was he actually jealous?\u003C/p>",false,0,1774272917214]