Sydney waited until the others started filing out, manager barking orders, PR woman on her phone, boys murmuring.
Then she cornered me by the door. Voice low. Venomous.
“Stay away from him. From all of them. You got your fifteen minutes. Don’t push it. Or I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of trash you are.”
I stared at her. “You don’t scare me.”
She smiled, sweet, poisonous. “I should.”
She walked away.
Security hustled me down service stairs, through kitchens smelling like grease and bleach, out a loading dock.
The car waited, black SUV, tinted windows.
Paps were already there. Flashes exploded the second I stepped out. Voices shouting.
“Miss! Over here!”
“Is it true you trapped Cal?”
“What’s your last name?”
I ducked my head, climbed in fast. Door slammed.
The driver peeled out.
I pressed my forehead to the cool window, tears burning.
Rings still on my finger.
Married.
To a man who hated me.
And the whole world knew.
Chapter 7
Hadley
The SUV dropped me at the edge of the complex parking lot like I was some kind of delivery. No fanfare. No goodbye. Just the driver muttering “Stay low” before peeling away. I kept my head down, hood up, walking fast past the cracked asphalt and the row of dumpsters that always smelled like old Chinese takeout. No flashes. No shouts. For once, luck was on my side. Or maybe the paps hadn’t figured out where I lived yet.
I climbed the three flights of stairs, legs heavy, every step reminding me how sore I was between my thighs. Raw. Aching. Cal must’ve been… big. Rough. I didn’t remember most of it, just flashes...his mouth, his hands, the way the bathroom mirror fogged up. I pushed the thought away. Couldn’t deal with it right now.
The door was unlocked. I pushed it open quiet.
Mara was on the couch, arms crossed, face thunder. Eli’s tablet was on the coffee table, screen dark. No train videos playing. That alone made my stomach twist harder.
“You’re finally here,” she said, voice flat. “Eleven-thirty. Nice.”
“I’m sorry.” I shut the door behind me. “Phone died. I....”
“Bullshit. You didn’t even text. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday. Refused everything. Sat in his room crying half the night.”
My throat closed. “Where is he?”
“Locked himself in. Won’t open for me.” She stood, grabbed her bag. “I stayed extra because I felt bad, but you owe me for the overtime. Double rate. I’m not kidding.”
