She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 959

Thankfully, they made it back in time for the after-party.

It was the studio's unofficial tradition to blow off steam at a private rented villa after a major show.

Helena walked in with Swain, instantly drawing a crowd of concerned coworkers. Swain played off his injury with a joke, and Helena made polite small talk before slipping away to grab a drink to settle her nerves.

She scanned the noisy room, but didn't spot Morris. Then again, he despised loud parties.

She headed upstairs, walking past various game rooms and lounges. As she passed a half-open door, she froze.

Morris was standing out on a large terrace attached to a quiet lounge, deep in conversation with a stunning woman. Helena recognized her—she was at every single one of his shows, a hardcore VIP fan and a recognized musical prodigy in her own right.

Helena watched them for a moment in silence, then quietly backed away.

Morris glanced toward the doorway, his expression unreadable. "Excuse me for a moment," he told the socialite smoothly, and gracefully stepped inside.

His footsteps were entirely silent. By the time he walked out into the hall, he spotted Helena standing frozen near a corner.

Two coworkers were smoking by an open window just a few feet away, chatting loudly.

"Did you see those two outside the building today? Holding that banner calling Helena a backstabbing, ungrateful brat?"

"Yeah, it was insane. Helena played it cool, but you could tell she was vibrating with stress. I was scared to even talk to her."

"How can parents do that to their own kid? It's so trashy."

"Who knows? Every family's got issues, I guess."

Helena stopped dead in her tracks. She hid in the shadows of the alcove, her fingers digging viciously into the handrail.

Hearing her coworkers casually dissecting her trauma was the final straw. Every ounce of anxiety, humiliation, and self-loathing she had repressed all day suddenly ruptured like a failing dam.

Her breathing turned ragged. She shoved open the nearest door and practically fell inside.

The room was pitch black and empty.

She slid down the back of the door until she hit the floor. Her hands clamped onto her thighs, her nails biting brutally through the fabric of her skirt, desperately trying to drag the sharpest, most grounding pain she could muster to drown out the noise in her head.

She wanted to press harder. She wanted to bleed.

*Knock, knock.*

The sound cut through her panic.

"Room's taken," she managed to choke out.

"It's me."

The voice from the other side made the room fall dead silent. A second later, the handle clicked and the door pushed open.

Morris stood silhouetted in the hallway light. He looked down at her shaking, exhausted form. "Do you need my help?"

Helena looked up at him. His face was cast in half-shadow, remote and flawlessly composed. His eyes were dark, fathomless pools.

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