She Used Me for a Dare… Now I Own Her Mother

Chapter 134: Burned Bridge



"Get. Out."

But Lila didn't move. Couldn't move. Her entire body had locked up, caught between panic and desperation.

She knew if she got out now, if she let him drive away angry like this... it would be over.

He'd lock her out completely, build walls so high she'd never scale them.

She looked at him with burning eyes, her mind racing, unable to think clearly through the panic flooding her system.

All her plans... her mission... it would all be ruined. Sophia wouldn't let her get away with failure easily. She'd even informed her about tonight... Tonight, I'll take him down.

The panic tightened around her chest like a vice.

She had to be stubborn. Had to fight.

It was the only solution she could think of right now. She couldn't... wouldn't... walk away.

"No," she whispered.

Alex's head snapped toward her, disbelief flickering across the emptiness in his expression. "What did you just say?"

"I said no." Her voice was trembling but determined. "I'm not getting out."

"Lila..."

"Listen, Alex... I'm sorry!" The words burst out of her, raw and desperate. "I really am, okay? I know I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have brought her up. That was... that was wrong. A big mistake."

She leaned toward him, her hand reaching out instinctively. "But I don't have any malicious intent... I want you, Alex. Madly. At any cost. I can't... I can't live without you."

The words hung in the air between them, desperate and pleading.

But his expression didn't soften. If anything, the cold fury in his eyes deepened, hardening into something impenetrable.

"This is your last chance," Alex said, his voice deadly calm. "Get out, or I'll drag you out myself."

Panic clawed at Lila's throat. She could see it... him doing exactly that, grabbing her arm and physically removing her from his car, from his life.

And once he did, it would be over. Completely, irreversibly over.

Her mind raced, scrambling for something... anything... that would make him listen, make him see.

And then instinct took over.

She lunged across the center console, hands fisting in his shirt, and crashed her lips against his.

Alex froze, his entire body going rigid with shock.

For a split second, he didn't move, didn't breathe. Just sat there with her mouth pressed desperately against his, her fingers clutching his shirt like a lifeline.

Lila didn't pull back. She kissed him harder, deeper, pouring every ounce of desperation and want and apology into it.

Her hands slid from his shirt to his face, cradling his jaw, holding him there like if she just didn't let go, he couldn't push her away.

But then his hands came up... firm, unyielding... and gripped her shoulders.

He pushed her back. Hard.

Lila stumbled against the passenger seat, gasping, her eyes wide with shock and desperation.

"Get. Out. Now." His voice was steel. Final.

She stared at him for one more desperate second, searching his face for any crack, any softness, any sign that she'd reached him.

But there was nothing. Just cold, impenetrable distance.

Her hands shook as she fumbled for the door handle. Every movement felt mechanical, detached, like she was watching herself from outside her body.

The door opened.

The warm glow of the setting sun hit her face.

And Lila stepped out onto the sidewalk, her legs barely holding her upright.

Before she could turn back, before she could try one more time, Alex pulled the door shut.

Their eyes met through the window for one brief, devastating second.

Then he drove away.

***

Lila stood on the sidewalk, watching his taillights fade into the soft glow of the evening, one hand pressed to her throat and tears finally spilling down her cheeks.

The red glow shrank. Smaller. Smaller. Until it was just another pair of lights in the distance, blending with the golden haze of the street and the fading sunlight.

And then it was gone.

He's gone.

The thought hit her like a physical blow, stealing what little breath she had left.

She'd failed.

Miserably.

The reality of it crashed over her in waves... each one colder and more suffocating than the last.

All her careful planning, all her calculated moves, all the times she'd pushed and tested and provoked... and for what?

To be left standing alone on a sidewalk, watching him drive away like she was nothing.

Like she meant nothing.

Her legs felt weak, unsteady, but she didn't move. Couldn't move. Some desperate, foolish part of her kept hoping... praying... that he'd realize. That he'd turn around.

That any second now, she'd see those headlights reappearing, coming back for her.

Please. Please come back.

One minute passed.

Then another.

The street remained empty. Silent. Indifferent to her desperation.

And with each passing second, the truth settled deeper into her bones: he wasn't coming back.

All her chances were gone. Dead. Nothing would mend this... not apologies, not time, not anything. She'd crossed a line she couldn't uncross, said a name she couldn't unsay, and now...

Now there was nothing left.

The tears came harder, hot and bitter against her cold cheeks. Her chest ached with the force of holding back the sobs that wanted to break free.

How much had she wanted him? She was only realizing it now, standing here in the wreckage of her own making. It wasn't just desire or attraction or some game she'd been playing.

It was need. Raw and consuming and absolutely terrifying in its intensity.

She needed him. Wanted him. Craved him in a way that made her chest feel hollow now that he was gone.

And she'd destroyed it all herself.

Finally... she didn't know how long she'd been standing there... her legs began to move. Mechanical. Autopilot.

She turned toward her apartment building, each step heavier than the last.

The gate creaked as she pushed through it, and she vaguely registered that she should close it behind her. Her hand reached back automatically, then fell away.

She couldn't even bring herself to care.

The gate hung open behind her as she climbed the steps to her building, swaying slightly.

All because of that bitch Linda.

The thought sparked something in the numbness... a flicker of heat, of anger that felt easier to hold onto than the crushing weight of her failure.

Why did I bring her up?


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