Chapter 27

Vanessa jolted awake on the sagging couch, the thin blanket tangled around her legs, her breath fogging in the icy air of the rented room. The laptop teetered on the cracked Formica table, its screen still glowing with the tabloid’s lie—“Honeymoon Scandal: Elena’s Secret Affair?”—now buried under a flood of notifications. Her burner phone buzzed beside it, relentless, a wasp trapped in a jar. She snatched it, bleary-eyed, and scrolled: an anonymous X post, fresh from her fixer, taunted, “More to come on Elena’s secrets.” Her pulse quickened, a feral grin tugging at her chapped lips. It was working—Derek and Elena’s perfect world was crumbling, brick by brick, just as she’d dreamed. The high lasted seconds. A fist hammered the door, rattling the cheap wood. “Rent’s due, lady!” the landlord barked, his voice gravelly through the thin walls. “Three days late—pay up or get out!” Vanessa’s stomach dropped, her hands scrambling for the shoebox under the couch. Empty—no cash, no bracelet, nothing left after she’d pawned Derek’s gift. Her eyes darted to the window, the fire escape a rusted lifeline. She grabbed the laptop, the phone, the box—relics of her war—and bolted, shoving the sash up with a grunt. The landlord’s curses chased her as she clambered down, boots slipping on icy metal, landing hard in the alley below.