CHAPTER 88: FEAR

Nicholas didn’t say a word as the city blurred past the window, the hum of the car engine the only sound between them. The lights of traffic reflected off the glass, stripes of color cutting across his sharp features. His fingers drummed lightly against his thigh, the only outward sign of the war unraveling beneath his calm.

Outwardly, he was still. Composed.

But inside?

It was chaos.

He kept his gaze forward, jaw tight, not because he didn’t want to look at her—but because if he did... he didn’t know what he would do. He didn’t trust himself right now. Not with the ache sitting at the center of his chest, radiating outward in slow, crushing waves.

It shouldn’t have hit him the way it did.

He’d walked in expecting something—awkwardness, maybe. Resentment from the past, unfinished words hovering like ghosts.

But not that.

Not him.

Not Adrian Richards, standing there like the devil dragged out of Ella’s old life, touching her like he still had a claim.

Worse was the way Ella had frozen—like part of her didn’t know what to do, like she wasn’t certain where she belonged.

Nicholas didn’t blame her for having a past.

God, no. If anything, it was what made her real. Her scars, her history, the cracks she tried to fill with strength and sharp wit—he wanted all of it. He loved all of it, even the parts that scared her.

But freezing when that bastard leaned in?

That gutted him.

It wasn’t jealousy that burned inside him.

It was fear.

And Nicholas Carter did not fear.

Or at least—not until Ella.

He clenched his jaw tighter, closing his eyes briefly as the flash of the scene came back in brutal clarity.

The way Adrian’s hand had cupped her jaw—like Nicholas hadn’t already claimed every inch of her soul, like he hadn’t made vows in the dark with her pressed beneath him, wearing nothing but his name.

The way her eyes had widened—not with desire, but with hesitation.

That hesitation scared him more than anything.

Because he’d seen that hesitation before.

Years ago.

With someone else.

He inhaled sharply through his nose, jaw working as he forced that memory down, pushed it deep into the vault where he kept things locked and sealed. This wasn’t about her.

This was about Ella.

But damn if the old wounds didn’t bleed the second he saw that look on Ella’s face.

That old betrayal—it hadn’t left him.

Don’t trust too easily, Nicky. Don’t believe them when they say you’re enough. They’ll always want more.

His father’s voice, sharp and condescending, twisted through his mind like smoke curling under locked doors. Nicholas could almost hear the bastard’s laugh, the smug satisfaction when Nicholas’s first love had humiliated him in front of the world. Left him broken, headlines swirling like vultures.

He’d sworn never to feel that kind of powerlessness again.

He’d built walls. Crafted a new version of himself out of sharper things. Cleaner lines. Ruthless, unapologetic control.

Until her.

Until Ella.

And now that same old dread was curling around his ribs, squeezing like a vice.

But this was different.

Ella wasn’t like the others. She hadn’t been groomed by society for cameras and scandals. She didn’t smile because someone told her to. Everything she gave him was real.

But it didn’t stop the fear from clawing at the inside of his chest, whispering:

She’s going to leave you, too.

That was the truth of it.

Not jealousy. Not possessiveness.

Fear.

It wasn’t even rational.

He knew who Adrian was. Knew exactly what kind of manipulative, gutless man tried to kiss a woman who clearly didn’t want him. Knew Adrian was trash, that he’d tossed Ella aside when she was at her lowest, that he was running back only because she was shining again—because Nicholas had given her that space to rise.

But what gutted him—destroyed him—was that Ella had frozen because that old wound hadn’t fully healed yet. Somewhere deep down, some broken part of her still wondered if she was worthy of better.

And that was where their sins matched.

Because somewhere deep down, Nicholas still wondered if he was worthy of being chosen.

By anyone.

He shifted slightly in the seat, forcing his fingers to still as he glanced sideways at her for the first time since they left.

She was curled in on herself—shoulders slightly hunfched, hands twisted in her lap like she was trying to contain her own shame. The profile of her face was soft, delicate, and in this light, utterly breakable.

And he hated himself a little, for making her feel that way.

But he couldn’t help it.

The moment he’d seen Adrian’s hand on her, that fear had roared up like wildfire.

He hated how much power she had over him now.

Hated that she could break him with a single look.

Hated, even more, that she didn’t even know it.

Nicholas dragged a hand across his jaw, feeling the tension there like wire stretched too thin.

He was supposed to be better than this. Controlled. Collected. The perfect image of Carter precision. His father’s prized, polished disappointment.

But with Ella?

Every sharp edge frayed.

He wanted to trust her fully. God, he did.

But that old betrayal echoed like a drumbeat at the back of his mind.

Don’t believe them when they say you’re enough...

His throat worked, dry and aching.

Finally, finally, when the penthouse lights came into view, he broke the silence.

"You froze."

Just two words.

Soft. Icy. True.

Ella flinched like he’d hit her.

"I know," she whispered, her voice shaking.

Nicholas closed his eyes, willing himself to steady. He needed control. Needed logic. Needed to be the man she’d chosen—not some broken version of himself clawing out of old wounds.

But the fear wouldn’t go away.

By the time they reached the penthouse, he knew only one thing for certain:

He couldn’t lose her.

Not to Adrian.

Not to the past.

Not to himself.

And if it took tearing down every last wall he’d built, brick by brutal brick, to prove that to her—he would.

But not yet.

Not until she proved she was ready to stand at his side fully.

As his.

And only his.

Forever.