The world didn't explode all at once.
It fractured.
Thomas woke to his phone vibrating nonstop on the nightstand—missed calls from his lawyer, his manager, his publicist, his father. Headlines already crawled across every screen before he even unlocked it.
"BUSINESS HEIR UNDER INVESTIGATION"
"POWER IMBALANCE CLAIMS ROCK CROSS FAMILY EMPIRE"
"WAS ESTRELLA EVER REALLY SAFE?"
His name was everywhere. Not whispered. Not rumored. Branded.
By noon, the board of Cross Holdings had convened without him.
By evening, his accounts were frozen pending investigation.
By nightfall, the company released a statement:
Thomas Cross has been placed on indefinite leave pending a full internal and legal review.
Indefinite.
A word that sounded polite but meant exile.
Damiano
Damiano didn't raise his voice when he finally stood in front of Thomas.
That scared Thomas more than anything.
"You knew," Damiano said quietly. "You knew her age. You knew her position. You knew the power you had."
Thomas tried to speak. Tried to defend himself. Tried to explain how it "wasn't like that."
Damiano cut him off with a single sentence.
"It doesn't matter what you felt. It matters what you did."
The silence that followed was final.
Damiano turned his back—not in anger, but in disgust—and walked out.
That hurt worse than a punch.
Aaliyah
Aaliyah watched the news with her jaw set and her spine straight.
They tried to frame Estrella as reckless. As confused. As complicit.
Aaliyah shut it down within hours.
She stood at the podium that afternoon, eyes steady, voice unwavering.
"My daughter was young, vulnerable, and surrounded by people who should have protected her," she said. "This is not a scandal. This is a failure of responsibility."
She didn't cry.
She didn't apologize.
She claimed space.
And the world listened.
Estrella
Estrella waited two days before speaking.
When she did, she did it on her own terms.
No handler.
No Thomas.
No spin.
She wore white. Not innocence—clarity.
Her statement was read aloud, her voice shaking only once.
"I was eighteen. I trusted someone older, more powerful, and deeply influential in my life. I didn't understand the weight of that imbalance until it was too late."
The room was silent.
"I am taking responsibility for my future. But I refuse to carry shame for someone else's choices."
She placed one hand over her stomach—not to announce, not yet, but instinctively.
"I ask for privacy. And I ask that young women be believed when they say they were not protected."
When she stepped away from the microphone, the press didn't chase her.
For once, they let her go.
Thomas
That night, Thomas sat alone in an apartment that suddenly felt borrowed.
No calls came.
No one defended him.
The world had moved on—without him.
For the first time, Thomas understood something he never had before:
Power doesn't disappear slowly.
It falls all at once.
And it never comes back the same.