"Victoria Everhart"

August 6th, 2025

Hollywood, Los Angeles - 7:56 PM

The lights were blinding, the applause deafening. The final shot of the talk show broadcasted live from Hollywood, Los Angeles, featured Victoria Everhart flashing her dazzling smile and blowing a delicate kiss toward the studio audience.

The host grinned beside her, clapping, reveling in the buzz her presence always generated. As the closing credits rolled, Victoria stood, gave the host a final graceful nod, and exited the set.

Outside the studio, chaos waited. Fans screamed her name, security guards pressed against waves of cellphones and outstretched hands, and paparazzi cameras clicked like a barrage of gunfire.

Victoria, as always, moved through it like a queen through a storm. She allowed a few photos, gave a couple of genuine but fleeting smiles, and signed exactly one autograph. Anything more than that? Waste of time.

Her bodyguard, a tall man with sunglasses and the expression of a trained hound, opened the rear door of her black Rolls Royce. Victoria stepped inside with elegance, unbothered by the noise.

Waiting inside was her boyfriend, Jack Alborough - a world-renowned DJ from South Africa, known both for his beats and his appetite for luxury. Dressed in a sleek designer jacket, he leaned forward with a kiss to her cheek.

"Great show, babe. You crushed it," he smiled.

Victoria kissed him back - mechanically on the cheek, not out of coldness, but habit.

"You tired? Hungry? You good?" Jack asked.

"I'm okay," she replied with a faint smile. She stared out the window as the Rolls Royce pulled off, leaving behind the glitz and noise of the studio.

Her fingers slowly unclasped her bracelet, absentmindedly rolling it between her fingers.

But her expression was distant. The boyfriend noticed it instantly. Her jaw was tight, her brows slightly knit. She wasn't her usual self.

Something was off. Jack felt it.

Victoria was quiet.

Too quiet.

Usually, after an appearance, she'd be alive with post-show energy - analyzing the crowd, the questions, the next moves for her PR. But now, she stared out the tinted window, her eyes distant, her jaw tight.

"Hey," he said, touching her hand gently. "What's on your mind?"

She blinked, almost forgetting Jack was there.

"You looked... somewhere else on that stage, Vic. Like your head was far from here."

Victoria hesitated. Her eyes flicked to him. He wasn't wrong.

"While I was on stage," she said, slowly choosing her words, "I had this weird feeling... like someone was watching me."

He raised an eyebrow. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"Watching you? Like stalker watching, or...?"

She shook her head. "No. Not that. It wasn't creepy. It was... familiar. Someone... special from my past."

The word "special" changed the air inside the car.

Jack sat upright. "Special?"

"It's just a feeling." She waved it off, but her voice betrayed her calm. She could hear the skepticism in his silence.

"You mean special like... a guy?"

Victoria didn't answer.

"It was a guy, wasn't it?" His voice was sharper now, not quite accusing but edging there.

"Don't do this," she muttered.

"You said special from your past. Not 'an old friend.' Not 'someone I knew.' You said special. That means you had something with him."

"Jesus, you're being dramatic," Victoria snapped.

"I just wanna know who the hell he is, Vic. I'm not stupid." Jack argued.

Victoria clenched her jaw. "I said past, didn't I? That means he's out of the picture. That should be enough."

But even as she said it, her mind drifted - back to Tokyo, two years ago.

It had been sudden. Unexpected. That man - that fucking man - appearing on the set of her film, of all places. They hadn't seen each other in years, decade. He was part of the technical crew, part-time. She hadn't known he was there until their eyes met behind the stage lights. The air had thickened instantly.

She had asked him out for coffee, just to "catch up." Then another date. And another. Laughter returned, soft glances, brushes of fingertips. For a moment, she thought fate was giving her a second chance.

But weeks later, he ended it. Out of nowhere, blindsiding her.

Coldly. Quietly.

Said he couldn't trust her. That's it.

His words shattered something in her.

She had yelled. Cried. Slammed a door in a Tokyo café. And he walked away without looking back.

She never told anyone. Not even her boyfriend now.

"I want to know who he is," Jack said, his voice now calm but probing. "This... guy. Was he an ex? Did you love him?"

"You're pushing too hard," Victoria snapped again, her mood suddenly darkening. "Let it go."

Silence filled the car. For a long while, they said nothing.

But her heart was louder than any words. She felt him tonight. She knew it was him - watching her from somewhere beyond the lights.

And now her gut whispered something she couldn't shake.

She needed to go back. Not for closure. Not for revenge. But because a part of her soul had reawakened.

Her voice broke the silence again, this time softer.

"I think I need to visit the orphanage soon."

Jack glanced at her. "St. Evelyn's?"

She nodded slowly. "It's been too long."

He didn't respond. He just looked at her, uncertain whether this detour was for charity or something else entirely.

But Victoria knew. She wasn't going to the orphanage just to reminisce.

She was going back to confront the ghost of her past - the man who had once made her feel more than anyone ever had. The same man who had cut her off without a second thought.

She wanted answers. Closure.

Or maybe... something more.

As the city lights blurred past her window, Victoria clenched her fists in her lap.

The man thought he could escape her memory that easily, he was wrong.

She leaned forward and tapped the partition. "We go to South Carolina tomorrow."

The bodyguard nodded from the front seat.

As the car sped through the city of angels, Victoria sat in silence. Not as an actress, not as a celebrity, but as a woman chasing based in a gnawing feeling.

Somewhere across the state, a man from her past had seen her.

And her heart whispered his name again.

"Ian"