Starting Again (A Charles Leclerc Fic)

chapter forty : heaven

Katrina Hale
Point of View

As she stepped out of the apartment, her heart plummeted. The once quiet complex buzzed with a swarm of flashing cameras and shouting voices. "Katrina! Over here!" a voice pierced the air, sharp as glass.

"Is it true? Did you steal those songs?" another voice yelled, and the crowd surged forward, a tide of bodies and noise.

Katrina's breath caught. 

**Thud, thud, thud.** 

Her heart was a drum in her chest. She stumbled backward, caught off guard by the overwhelming press of bodies.

"Back off!" Charles's voice boomed through the chaos. He stepped in front of her, his frame service as her shield. 

A camera snapped, the flash momentarily blinding her.

"Charles, I can't—" she gasped, her voice shaking.

"It's okay mon cherie" he said, his tone steady, but there was an edge to it. "Just keep moving. Let's get you to the car."

The media hounds pressed closer, their questions a cacophony of accusations and speculations. "Katrina! Why did you leave? Are you coming back to music?"

"Charles! Do you know about her past?"

The cameras continued to flash like strobe lights, each burst revealing a face twisted in curiosity and judgment.

Katrina squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the noise. She felt Charles's hand on her back, urging her forward. "Stay close to me, we're almost there love" he muttered, his voice low and fierce.

As they pushed through the crowd, a voice called out, "You're a fraud, Katrina! Just admit it!"

Her heart sank deeper. The words cutting deeper than any blade. She quickened her pace, her feet moving on autopilot, carrying her toward the car that was parked on the other side of the road, away from the crowd.

Once outside, the air felt different, fresher, but the shadows of the terminal loomed large. The car—a sleek black SUV—drew closer, but before she could reach it, a tall woman with raven hair darted in front of her, cornering her. It was still a mystery how she could've come closer without any of them noticing

"Just one question, Katrina!" the woman shouted, her voice piercing through the din. "Did you really write those songs or you just want to claim credit for somebody else's work?"

Katrina froze, the weight of the world crashing down on her shoulders. She felt Charles tense beside her. "Not now he said, his voice a low growl.

But the woman pressed on, undeterred. "You owe it to your fans to explain yourself!"

"She already explained her side of story but none of you even took time to air it. Guess it ruins the narrative you're trying to create" Mavi for the very first time spoke up for her best friend with venom dripping from her words. The media has been extremely biased when it comes to what they air on television. They created the narrative that an established singer is taking credits for the hard work of a rising star because she was insecure of her.

"Let's go!" Max snapped, In one swift motion Charles wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her toward the car. Max went to the driver's seat, he scanned the crowd and noticed that the media was already walking towards them. 

"Get in!" he urged, and Charles practically shoved Katrina into the back seat.

As the door slammed shut, the noise dimmed to a muffled roar.