Chapter 3 Strange Reporter

Kieran’s POV

The ballroom suddenly became quieter. Several guests exchanged awkward glances.

My grip tightened around the champagne flute in my hand, but I straightened my jacket, covering my expression quickly.

"Life doesn't stop because tragedy happens," I answered calmly after a brief pause. "Moving forward is the only choice."

The crowd applauded again, but I could feel the weight of every eye on me.

"Thank you, Mr. Vale," the reporter replied with a courteous nod.

She scribbled something inside her notebook before realizing she had accidentally stepped in front of another journalist's camera.

A few nearby reporters chuckled before she stepped aside, allowing the other journalists to come forward.

Eventually, the master of ceremonies clapped his hands together, desperate to move the night back on track. "And now... the moment everyone has been waiting for. It's time to cut the cake."

The orchestra began playing once more.

Hotel staff carefully wheeled an enormous six-tier engagement cake toward the center of the stage while photographers crowded closer.

Vanessa laughed quietly beside me. "This one will be in every newspaper tomorrow."

I gave a silent nod. "I have no doubt."

A silver cake knife was placed into my hand. Vanessa gently rested hers over mine as we both reached for it. Just as our fingers touched, my eyes drifted across the crowd because something had caught my attention.

The young reporter was making her way toward the exit. For the first time that evening, I truly looked at her, and it made my hand freeze mid-air.

The sounds of the ballroom faded into the background.

Her long dark hair rested loosely over one shoulder. A little messy, like she had walked here in the rain. She looked completely ordinary, yet something about her face refused to let go of me.

My heartbeat skipped.

No… Not possible.

I forced myself to look away, but I couldn't.

"Kieran?"

Vanessa's voice pulled me back.

I blinked, and the ballroom came back into focus. The cake, the cameras, and the hundreds of eyes watching us.

"Hmm...?"

She followed my gaze toward the departing reporter. "What are you looking at?"

I shook my head. "Umm... nothing."

Even to me, the answer sounded unconvincing, and my voice had become quieter than usual.

The reporter reached the ballroom doors, and one of the hotel staff pulled them open for her. Just before leaving, she turned around briefly, almost as though she sensed someone watching her. Our eyes met for a second, and she offered me a small smile, then she disappeared into the hallway.

For reasons I couldn't explain, it felt as though I had just watched something important walk out of my life.

The music continued, and photographers kept shouting instructions.

"Mr. Vale!"

"Miss Pierce!"

"Over here, please!"

The applause resumed as the engagement cake waited to be cut.

"Kieran," Vanessa called again, her voice slightly firmer this time. "The knife."

I drew a slow breath and forced myself to face the cameras.

"Smile, Mr. Vale!" one photographer shouted.

I tried, but the smile never reached my eyes.

"Shall we?" Vanessa whispered.

I nodded automatically.

We cut the cake amid another storm of camera flashes, but I couldn't remember doing it. My mind remained fixed on the young reporter who had quietly walked away.

Ten minutes later, after greeting another line of guests, I finally turned to Vanessa. "Excuse me," I said quietly.

She looked at me with concern. "What is it?"

"I'm not feeling well."

Without waiting for her response, I stepped away from the celebration without looking back. I could hear my own breathing as I made my way toward the hallway where the ballroom doors had just closed softly.

The reporter was gone.

Marcus's voice came from behind me. "Sir?”

I kept staring at the empty corridor. "The reporter who asked the question…?”

Marcus frowned. "What about her?"

I remained silent for several seconds before finally speaking. "Run a background check on her, and find out who she is."

Marcus looked surprised. "On a reporter? Why?"

I finally looked away from the empty hallway and faced him. "Just do as I told you." The words came out before I could stop them.

I breathed out. "Something about her doesn't sit right with me.

Marcus studied me for a long moment before giving a respectful nod. "Yes, sir."

As he walked away, I remained standing alone.

It couldn't be her. So why was my hand shaking?

I slipped a hand into my jacket pocket and pulled out the old photograph I had carried for the past three years.

Time had faded its edges slightly, but the smiling woman beside me remained as beautiful as the day the picture had been taken.

My eyes moved from the photograph to the empty hallway one last time.

"Impossible," I murmured.

Carefully, I folded the photograph and slipped it back into my pocket.

Then, without another word, I turned and walked away.