It was a memory she had carried for twenty-six years, something she would never forget. She folded the newspaper slowly. She had rebuilt everything; her identity, her life, and tomorrow, her daughter Channel, the child she carried during that escape, would graduate from college. She had told her the story, and she had let her grow with the surname of Holland, as she had nothing to do with the 'Cruz' family, though Damian was Channel's biological father.

Charlotte smiled, for the woman she had become and the hardships she went through. She couldn't forget the son she had left behind, Maverick, and she wondered if he was still alive with all these years that had passed.

She was about to stand and went through her email when the door opened with a soft creak.

Channel stepped in, carrying her handbag. Her face lit up with surprise.

"Mom? You're home early." Channel blinked, almost laughing. "I thought you'd still be at the office."

Charlotte lowered the newspaper, smiling.

"I came home to rest a bit. And tomorrow is a big day, remember?" She gave her daughter a proud look. "My girl is graduating."

Channel smiled, a little proud.

"Yeah... I still can't believe it's tomorrow."

Charlotte patted the seat beside her, and Channel walked closer and sat next to her. Charlotte reached out and touched her daughter's hand gently.

"And after you graduate, you can start working with me," Charlotte said. "I've already prepared a position for you in one of the companies. You'll learn fast. You're smart."

Channel leaned in and hugged her tightly. She tried to laugh, tried to sound excited.

"Mom... thank you really. That means everything to me."

But Charlotte felt her daughter's shoulders trembling. Channel's smile was fake. Her eyes darted away. Something was wrong.

Charlotte pulled back a little.

"Channel? What is it? Did something happen?"

Channel held her breath, she rubbed her palms on her jeans.

"Mom... I don't know how to say this, but..." She swallowed. "Something I heard yesterday at Seven Skies... I can't stop thinking about it."

Charlotte's face grew still.

"Go on," she said.

Channel looked down at her hands.

"I heard some guys talking... and they said Maverick Cruz is back in the city."

Charlotte froze.

Channel continued, her voice trembled:

"And... and they said he's looking for a woman with the surname Holland."

Charlotte felt like she had stopped breathing. For a moment, she didn't blink, she was scared.

"He's... looking for me?" she whispered.

Channel looked down, searching for the right words to say.

"Mom, I don't know what it means. I don't know if it's good or bad. What if he's like Damian? What if he wants something else? What if he's dangerous?"

She paused before she continued.

"Why now? Why did he come back? What does he want? Does he even know the truth? What if he's angry you left?"

Charlotte reached out and held her daughter's cheek gently, trying to calm her down.

She spoke calmly, even though her heart was beating fast.

"Listen, sweetheart..." She took a slow breath. "If Maverick is back... then maybe he's finally looking for his real family. Maybe he wants answers. Maybe he wants peace."

Channel shook her head slightly.

"Or maybe he wants revenge. Maybe he became like Damian. Mom, you know what that world is like."

Charlotte nodded.

"If he became a criminal... then it's my fault," she said quietly. "I left him behind. I did what I had to do to save myself and protect the child I was carrying."

She took a deep breath.

"But he's still my son. And he's your brother. If he's looking for us... I won't run from him, I already run from his father."

Channel studied her mother's face and sighed.

"I understand... I think."

Then she added: "I just don't know what he wants from us."

Charlotte squeezed her hand.

"We'll face it when it comes. For now, focus on your graduation. Be proud of yourself. Be strong. You might need that strength soon."

Channel nodded slowly.

Inside, she was asking herself questions she couldn't speak aloud:

What does my brother look like now?

What is he capable of?

And why is he searching for us after all these years?

She stood up.

"I'll go get ready for tomorrow," she said quietly.

"Alright, darling," Charlotte replied.

Channel walked out of the room.

When the door closed, Charlotte let out a long breath she had been holding. She looked back at the newspaper but couldn't focus on the words.

She whispered to herself:

"Maverick... my son... after all these years..."

Her hands trembled slightly as she folded the paper.

"Please... let this be a new beginning... not another war."

She leaned back on the couch, her eyes full of old memories she wished she could forget.

Back at Melody Lane Music School, Mr. Gray clapped his hands once.

"Alright, that's it for today," he said, smiling at the class. Lines of tired but excited students looked up from their instruments. "Remember, music isn't about being perfect. It's about being honest. Practice your scales, listen with your heart, and don't be late tomorrow."

He gave them a playful glare at the last sentence, making a few students laugh. Then he packed his sheet music, took his tablet and walked out. The students followed, chattering as they filed through the door.

Sasha walked out with her notebook hugged to her chest. She spotted Alexine adjusting her headphones and rushed to catch up.

"Hey, wait!" Sasha said breathlessly.

Alexine turned, smiling. "You okay? Mr. Gray almost made you play solo today."

Sasha groaned. "Don't remind me. I swear he wants to see me panic."

"Or he knows you're good," Alexine teased. "Come on, you hit the notes fine."

Sasha shrugged, but her small smile gave her away. They walked side by side down the sidewalk, talking about chords, melody lines, and how Mr. Gray always made everything sound ten times harder than it was.

At the bakery corner, they split ways.

"See you tomorrow!" Sasha waved.

"Yep! Don't forget to practice!" Alexine called back.

She walked alone now, music playing through her headphones. She was halfway down Oak Street when she heard someone calling her name.

"Alexine! Wait... Alexine!"

She turned, confused, until she saw Dylan sprinting toward her, waving a folded paper in the air.

He stopped in front of her, breathing hard.

"You walk too fast," he complained, pushing back his messy hair.

She raised an eyebrow. "Or you run too slow."

He grinned, then handed her a note. "I wanted to show you something."

She unfolded it, expecting homework. Instead, her eyes widened.

It was a printed poster: Singing Auditions - This Saturday at Seven Skies Club. Winner gets a prize and becomes the club's weekend singer.

"What's this?" she asked, looking up.

"That's what I wanted you to see," Dylan said, excited. "I thought you should try."

Her mouth opened slightly. For a second, she looked excited, then her smile faded.

"Dylan... I don't sing," she said quietly. "I do DJ stuff. I mix tracks. I'm not..." she shook her head, "I'm not a singer."

"You can be," he said without hesitation. "Singing isn't some magical, impossible thing. You have rhythm. You can rhyme. You can do it."

"No," she insisted. "Sasha should do this. She sings better. She actually sings."

"But I want you to try," he said. "Alexine, you're capable of anything. Don't sell yourself short."

She crossed her arms, half annoyed. "You're being ridiculous."

"Maybe," he said, smiling, "but I'm still right."

She sighed. She knew from his stubborn face that arguing was useless.

"Fine. I'll think about it," she muttered.

"Good." He looked proud, like he'd won a battle.

As they continued walking, Dylan asked suddenly, "So... your parents cool with you being into music? Or did they want something else for you?"

Alexine laughed. "My dad? He wanted me to be a detective like him. He was so sure of it. Then he found out I liked music more, and he... well, he was disappointed." She shrugged with a sad smile. "But my mom? She runs a restaurant. She told me to follow my heart. Says she's fine if I become the first female DJ in the city."

"That's actually really cool," Dylan said, eyes shining with encouragement. "And you will be. But... don't forget the auditions on Saturday."

She groaned. "I won't forget. Trust me."

They reached the store where their paths split.

"See you tomorrow," Dylan said, giving her a small wave.

"Yeah. Bye," she replied before heading off.

Walking home alone again, she held the poster in both hands.

Her eyebrows pulled together, and she bit her bottom lip.

"I have to tell Sasha," she whispered to herself. "She'll win this thing. She has to."

The wind picked up, rustling the paper. Alexine folded it carefully and kept walking a little faster, already planning how to tell her best friend about the auditions.

Later that evening at Seven Skies Club, Julian Styles sat alone at a small corner table. His drink sat untouched. His eyes kept scanning the room; front door, bar counter, tables, dance floor... over and over, like a man waiting on a ghost. His foot tapped under the table, not to the rhythm of the music, but out of impatience.

His phone buzzed.

Julian lifted it quickly, as if expecting the message.

Message:

Have you seen her?

He typed back quickly.

Julian:

No sign of her. Either she's not coming, or she left early again. She was here yesterday with friends... didn't stay long. She walked out alone.

He sent it. He leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting to the door again.

There was another buzz.

This time, a photo came with the message, and it was Channel Holland, smiling in the picture with her curls dropping on her shoulders.

Message:

Don't forget the face. She's Channel Holland. In case you forget. Contact me the second she walks in. My men are ready.

Julian swallowed and zoomed in on the photo. Her face filled the screen. He studied it closely, and he smirked.

"Looking forward to seeing you soon, Channel," he murmured under his breath. "You must be important to him."

He locked his phone and set it face-down on the table. His eyes returned to the door, waiting patient for her arrival.

The night went on with music pounding and people dancing, while Julian waited for the girl who didn't know she was already listed in the book of danger.

Meanwhile, Maverick Cruz was in his apartment, lit only by the small lamp standing on the table. He sat on the edge of his couch with elbows on his knees. The room was quiet, yet in his head he could still hear the same old voice.

His father's voice.

"Your mother is dead, Maverick. She's not coming back. Forget her."

Maverick closed his eyes. The memory stabbed him in the heart like it always did. He remembered himself as a small boy, crying until his throat hurt, waiting by the door every night.

Waiting for a woman who never walked in.

He swallowed hard, forcing the tears back down. He hadn't cried since he was a kid.

"She could have said goodbye," he muttered under his breath. "I could have at least seen her body."

Damian Cruz was dead now; killed in a police chase seven years ago. Maverick had buried him, but he wasn't convinced with his father's death. He was looking for answers, he believed someone in their circle had betrayed Damian to the police.

He leaned back and grabbed his phone from the table. His thumb slid across the screen until Channel Holland's picture appeared again.

She was smiling, and she looked beautiful. But one thing stood out to him; she had Damian's eyes. Damian's jaw, and she looked just like him.

Maverick stared at the photo for a long moment.

"How can you look like him?" he whispered. "Who are you to have his eyes? Why do you have his smile?"

He narrowed his eyes.

"I'll find out," he said quietly. "I just need one thing... your DNA. After that, I'll know the truth."

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked down at the dark city streets. This was his world now.

He was the leader of his father's gang; the Cruz Syndicate, and his men were waiting for his next move.

Maverick reached for his jacket, slipped it on, and ran a hand through his dark hair.

"Time to work," he said to himself.

He put the phone in his pocket, and Channel's picture was still open on the screen. He turned off the lamp, leaving the room in darkness, and walked out the door.

That night, the Adams house was quiet. The lights in the bedroom were dim, soft enough for resting but bright enough so Ava could watch over Ian. She lay on her bed, facing the hospital bed across the room. Ian lay there, stiff and still, his body weak from the severe stroke he had suffered months earlier. The hospital bed had high metal rails on both sides to keep him safe. Beside him stood a small oxygen monitor, its green numbers glowing in the dark. A feeding pump hummed gently, sending liquid food through a tube taped to the side of Ian's face. A suction machine sat nearby, used whenever he struggled to swallow.

He looked thinner than before, his cheeks slightly sunken. His right hand twitched sometimes, the only part of him that still made tiny movements. His eyes were half-open, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Ava watched him, she couldn't sleep.

A memory crept into her mind. She remembered the first day she met Ian years ago at the hospital café. He had walked up to her with that bright smile he always carried, holding two cups of coffee.

"You look like someone who works too hard," he had joked, placing one cup in front of her. "Let me fix that."

Ava had laughed, shy and surprised. He had leaned forward, brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and said, "One day, I'm going to marry you... just wait."

And she had believed him. She had imagined a house filled with laughter, two or three kids, weekend trips, birthdays, holidays... the simple, sweet life she thought they would share.

But the stroke had taken all of that away, until all she could do was hope... that one day Ian would open his mouth and say something again. Hope that he would stand... that they would be a real couple, not a patient and a tired doctor-wife trying to be strong.

A soft beep from the monitor pulled her back. The numbers changed a little, telling her Ian was awake again... or unable to sleep.

Ava whispered to herself, almost like a prayer, "Maybe tomorrow will be better."

She got up from her bed and walked over to Ian. His eyes moved slowly toward her, and for a second they softened, like he was trying to recognize her.

Ava gave him a small smile.

"It's okay," she murmured. "I'm here."

She reached for the small bookshelf beside the hospital bed and took out a romantic novel; the one she used to read on lonely nights before she met him. She opened it to the page she had left last night.

"Let's finish this chapter," she said softly.

Ian's eyelids fluttered, he breathed slowly as he listened to her voice. Ava sat on the chair next to his bed and began to read calmly.

Minutes passed. Then an hour.

Ian's eyes finally closed, and Ava gently closed the book and brushed her fingers across his hand.

"Good night, Ian," she whispered.

She stood up, walked back to her bed, and lay down. Her body relaxed at last, seeing him sleeping peacefully.

Within minutes, she drifted into sleep too, and the faint noise from the machines was the only sound in the room.

The following morning, Ava Adams woke up to the ringing sound of her alarm. The room was still dim, only touched by the early morning light that slipped through the curtains. She blinked slowly, pushing herself up on her bed. Across the room, Ian lay on his hospital bed, the machines beside him giving off soft beeps.

Ava rubbed her eyes, then stood and walked to him.

His face was calm, but his chest rose unevenly, guided by the breathing support. The rails on the sides of the bed were up, and the small feeding pump blinked its green lights. A thin oxygen tube ran under his nose.

Ava placed her hand on his arm gently.

"Good morning, my love," she whispered, forcing a smile. "Let's start your day."

She picked up the small cup of morning medication, crushed a few pills and mixed in water. She lifted Ian slightly and helped him swallow the medicine.

"You're doing so well," she murmured, brushing his hair back. "One day... you'll get better. I know you will."

Ian blinked slowly, as if answering her. His fingers twitched against the blanket.

Ava checked the monitor numbers, nodding to herself. Everything seemed stable for now.

She sighed. "Okay... let me get ready."

Ava walked to the bathroom. She washed up, brushed her teeth, and fixed her hair neatly. She didn't look at herself too long in the mirror; she hated seeing the worry in her own eyes.

When she stepped back into the room, she rolled Ian's bed toward the door. The wheels moved smoothly, and she guided him down the hallway to the special care room with soft music playing in the background.

Hanna, the maid, appeared with her apron already tied and her hair in a bun.

"Good morning, Dr. Adams," Hanna said.

Ava smiled. "Morning, Hanna. I already gave him his first medication. At eight, please give him the second one, and make sure he finishes his feeding at ten. And... try to take him outside for a little sunshine later, even if it's just the balcony."

Hanna nodded. "I will. And breakfast is ready for you... oats and fruit."

Ava laughed. "You spoil me. I'll take it with me today. I'm running late."

She grabbed the packed breakfast from the counter. Then she turned to Ian again.

"Be good today," she whispered, touching his cheek. "I'll come back as soon as I can."

She leaned down and kissed his forehead gently.

Ian's eyes moved toward her.

Ava whispered, "I love you," then she straightened herself.

"Hanna," she said as she walked toward the door, "call me if anything changes. Anything at all."

"Yes, Dr. Adams," Hanna replied.

Ava hurried outside, her bag over her shoulder, breakfast in hand. She unlocked her car, took a deep breath, and slid into the driver's seat.

"I'll eat at work... if there's time," she said to herself with a weak smile.

The engine started, and she drove off toward the hospital, leaving her husband in Hanna's careful hands.

Ashford Central hospital's parking lot was already busy, nurses and doctors heading in and out. Ava parked her car in her usual spot. She grabbed her bag and her breakfast, locked the door, and walked toward the main entrance.

Automatic doors slid open, letting in the clean hospital smell. Nurses passed her in the hallway.

"Good morning, Dr. Adams," one of them greeted.

"Morning," Ava replied with a small smile.

Another nurse gave her a little wave and Ava waved back as she walked calmly to her office.

A few seconds later, she opened the door to her office. It was a small, neat room with blue walls, shelves full of medical books, brain charts pinned on a board, and her computer at the center. There was also a skeleton model standing in the corner.

Ava placed her bag on the desk and took out her breakfast and coffee. Before she even took a sip, she powered on her computer to check the night reports of patients.

Just then, a nurse walked in holding a folder.

"Dr. Adams, the results for Mr. Danley's scans came in."

Ava took the folder. "Thank you. I'll check them now."

The nurse nodded and left.

Ava sat down, opened her breakfast container. But before she could take her first bite, her phone rang. Her heart skipped a beat as one thought came to her mind... Ian.

She sighed and answered.

"Hello?" she said.

"Ava!" a cheerful voice replied. It was Clara Humphreys, her friend. "Hey, girl! Are you free tomorrow? It's Saturday... day off! Come with me to Seven Skies headquarters. They're hosting singing auditions and I'm one of the judges. I want you to sit with me as my guest!"

Ava smiled, running her hand through her hair. "Clara... I wish I could go, really. But I have a patient tomorrow."

Clara paused. "Is it Ian?"

"Yes... he needs me. He can't do most things alone."

Clara's excitement faded. "Oh, Ava... I'm sorry. I really hoped you'd come. Well... tell Ian I said I hope he gets better soon."

"I will," Ava said.

"Alright then. Take care, Ava. Call me if you change your mind."

"I will. Thanks, Clara."

The call ended.

Meanwhile, Alexine and Sasha walked side by side along the quiet sidewalk. Sasha hugged her backpack tighter, while Alexine swung hers loosely, mimicking a tune she had heard earlier on the radio.

"Can you believe Mr. Gray gave us homework on a Friday?" Alexine groaned dramatically, tossing her head back. "That man doesn't want us to rest."

Sasha laughed. "You're the one who loves the class."

"Yeah, but I love sleep too," Alexine shot back, grinning.

They kept walking until Alexine suddenly stopped mid-step.

"Oh... wait!" Her eyes widened. "I almost forgot!" She dropped her bag to the front, unzipped it, and dug through a mess of cables, notebooks, and headphone parts. "I knew there was something I wanted to show you yesterday."

She pulled out a folded printed paper and held it up like it was treasure.

Sasha watched her, raising her eyebrows. "What's that?"

"The auditions!" Alexine said, shaking the paper. "The singing auditions at the Seven Skies headquarters... tomorrow! I meant to show you, but Dylan distracted me with his weird love-note nonsense."

Sasha blinked, her curiosity rising. "Let me see."

Alexine handed it over eagerly and Sasha read it slowly, tilting her head a little.

"They're looking for a singer..." She murmured. "Tomorrow at 9 a.m."

"Yes!" Alexine clapped once. "And guess what? You are going."

Sasha lifted her head quickly. "What? Alexine, I... I don't know about that." Her brows narrowed. "Where did you even get this?"

"Dylan," Alexine said, flipping her hand. "He gave me the paper yesterday. He wants me to join the auditions but, Sasha..." She leaned in with a grin. "You know I can't sing to save my life. If I open my mouth on that stage, the judges will jump out the window."

Sasha tried not to smile. "You're not that bad."

"Oh please, I'm terrible," Alexine said proudly. "But Dylan believes in impossible things. That's why I'm giving this to you."

Sasha folded the paper slowly. "I don't know, Alexine... I've never sung in front of a crowd before. What if I mess up? What if they laugh?"

Alexine stopped walking and placed both hands on Sasha's shoulders.

"Sasha..." she said with a smile. "You have a voice that makes people stop and listen. I'm serious. When you sing, even birds come to listen." She nudged Sasha's arm lightly. "You can do this. I believe in you. I always have."

Sasha was unsure whether to look away or laugh. "You really think I should go?"

"I KNOW you should go," Alexine said loudly, throwing her hands in the air. "If you don't, I'll personally drag you there myself. And you know I'll do it. I'm strong."

Sasha shook her head, laughing. "Okay, okay... fine. I'll go."

Alexine cheered, pumping a fist. "YES! That's what I'm talking about. Tomorrow at 9 a.m., superstar Sasha Smith takes the stage!"

"You're too much," Sasha said, but she couldn't hide the smile forming slowly on her lips.

They continued walking toward Melody Lane Music School. Sasha was now quiet, holding the audition flyer close, and Alexine walking beside her with a proud grin.

Maverick Cruz sat alone in his office that morning, elbows on the desk, eyes narrowed at the small packages laid out before him. The room smelled of wine and expensive cologne. He moved each bag closer, checking the seals carefully.

"MDMA... clean," he muttered. He picked up another small packet, holding it to the light. "Coke... strong batch. Seven Skies better pay double for this one."

He pushed the bags into a black duffel bag, whistling as he worked. For a moment, he had forgotten about Channel Holland. Then he reached for his phone and dialed his driver.

The man picked up on the second ring. "Boss?"

"Rico," Maverick said, "I need you to deliver a package to Seven Skies club tonight, no delays."

On the other end, Rico breathed out quickly, like he was already moving. "I'm in the city right now, doing the Bianchi drop. Might take me a little longer, boss."

Maverick's eyes darkened, and he leaned back in his leather chair. "Handle it. I don't care how busy you are. Seven Skies gets theirs tonight."

"Yes, sir," Rico said at once.

"Good," Maverick said. "Don't make me call again."

He ended the call with a tap, tossing the phone onto the desk.

Before he could go back to sorting the last pile, a hard knock hit the door.

Maverick didn't look up. "Enter."

The door opened, and Dallas, his second in command stepped inside. He walked in quickly, straightening his shoulders as he stopped before the desk.

"Boss," Dallas said, catching his breath. "We got news. Channel Holland... she's graduating this morning at Ashford State University. Ceremony starts in ten minutes."

Maverick paused mid-motion, fingers curling around a packet. He slowly set it down, then lifted his gaze.

"So... today might be our chance," he said quietly.

Dallas nodded once. "Just tell me what you want."

Maverick stood from his chair, smoothing down the front of his shirt. "Bring me anything that can hold her DNA. Hair, saliva, sweat, anything. But listen..." He pointed a finger at Dallas. "Do not harm her. Not yet. And don't raise alarms. I don't want anyone panicking, especially her."

Dallas straightened, confidence returning to his face. "You'll have the DNA before the day ends. I promise."

"Good." Maverick waved him off with a flick of his hand. "Go."

Dallas left without another word, closing the door behind him.

Alone again, Maverick let out a slow breath, and he smiled.

"Soon," he murmured to himself, eyes drifting toward the window. "Soon I'll know everything about you, Channel Holland."

He sat back at his desk and pulled the last packets toward him. He worked quickly now, finishing sorting the drugs, but his mind was no longer fully on the job. It was already at Ashford State University, wondering what his men would bring back.

The grand hall of Ashford State University was filled with activity. Graduating students in blue gowns hurried inside, laughing, fixing their caps, waving to family in the rows of seats. Proud parents and excited siblings filled the aisles, taking photos and pointing at their favorites. The air was filled with a mixture of different perfume. There were people holding flowers, and some of the graduating students were having nerves.

Up front, staff members adjusted microphones and sorted their programs. The huge banners hanging from the ceiling - ASHFORD STATE UNIVERSITY CLASS OF THE YEAR - swayed gently from the movement of people.

Charlotte Holland entered through the side door. A soft gasp rose from nearby students when they noticed her. She wore a blue dress and she looked calm with a smile on her face.

Two university officials rushed toward her.

"Mrs. Holland, welcome," one said with a bright smile. "We're honored to have you today."

Charlotte nodded. "Thank you."

They escorted her to the reserved seat at the front row. As she sat, several cameras clicked. Her eyes scanned the hall... searching for her daughter.

The ceremony began with the chancellor stepping on stage and everyone was settled.

"Welcome to this special day..." the chancellor began.

Speech after speech followed; talks about the future, hard work, and pride. Then came the long list of names. Students walked across the stage, shaking hands, taking their moment in the bright light.

Channel Holland stepped on stage to applause that grew louder when Charlotte rose from her seat, clapping proudly. Channel's smile stretched wide; her cheeks couldn't hide her excitement. She received three awards: Academic Excellence in Media Studies, Best Short Film Project, and Leadership Award for Student Community Service.

When she walked off, Charlotte stood waiting and quickly pulled her into a hug. Cameras flashed as they posed together, Channel holding her flowers and certificates, both smiling and looking proud.

Meanwhile, in the crowd, Leon clapped loudly... cheering at almost every name. On the outside, he looked like a friendly stranger enjoying the event. But his stomach twisted, and his hands were sweating.

He kept repeating in his mind: Don't mess this up, Leon. Not for the boss.

He knew Maverick's consequences. He'd seen men lose fingers for "small mistakes." He'd seen one man vanish entirely for failing a simple task.

Leon swallowed hard. He could not afford to fail.

He checked his watch. Almost time.

Leon slowly opened a small wrapper and slipped the gum into his mouth. It was the extra–sticky kind; the kind that clung to anything it touched. He chewed it, feeling it soften, stretch, and turn glue-like.

The final remarks were made, thanking families and staff. People began to clap again, this time knowing it was the end. Charlotte and other high officials were guided out first.

Leon's eyes locked onto Channel as she left the hall laughing with her friends. She carried a huge bouquet and her graduation folder. She had no idea she was being followed.

Leon moved quickly, weaving through the crowd. He could hear his heartbeat thudding in his ears.

He caught up just as Channel turned toward the lawn outside.

He pretended to cough... then purposely spit the gum out.

It flew, landing right on her hair.