Chapter 104
Lena's POV
"Choice?" Her voice rose slightly. An older man at the next table glanced over. She lowered it again. "You exposed me. You cost me everything."
"I exposed the truth. You spread malicious lies."
"Because I had no other options!" Her composure cracked. "Do you know what it's like to be rejected by Rowan? To be blacklisted by the entire industry?"
"Rowan's choices aren't my responsibility. You built me into some imaginary rival, but that's your projection, not reality."
She laughed bitterly. "God, I hate this about you. So self-righteous. Like you're above it all."
I took another drink, longer this time. The sweetness was cloying. "If that's what you think."
"Why?" Her eyes were bright now, fever-bright. "Why would Rowan marry you and push me away? What do you have that I don't?"
"It was a contract."
"Bullshit." She leaned forward. "I saw the way you looked at him. You think I didn't notice? You loved him. Maybe you still do."
The words landed like a punch. I set down my cup carefully.
"But you're pathetic," Nora continued, voice shaking. "Too scared to even tell him. Walking around with that ice queen face—who would fall for that?"
Something strange was happening. The edges of my vision blurred slightly. I pressed my fingers to my temple.
"Maybe you're right," I said quietly. "Maybe I have a lot of flaws."
I looked at her directly. "But at least I've never hurt people to get what I want. You say you love Rowan, but you love what he represents—status, resources, validation."
"Your love is just self-deception. A way to justify your ambition."
Nora's face drained of color. Her fingers clenched around her cup. "You have no right—"
"I'm just stating facts."
The room tilted. Just slightly, but enough that I noticed. I blinked hard, trying to clear my head.
"Sorry, I'm feeling a bit..." I rubbed my eyes. "Long day."
When I looked up, Nora was staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Something between guilt and determination.
I tried to stand. My legs didn't cooperate properly.
"Easy." Nora was beside me suddenly, hand on my elbow. "You don't look well."
"I'm fine. I just need—" My phone. Where was my phone?
I fumbled for it, but my fingers felt thick and clumsy. The screen swam in front of me.
"What did you..." The words came out slurred. "What did you do?"
Nora's face was very close now. "Come on. Let's get you somewhere you can rest."
I wanted to pull away, to scream, but my body wasn't listening anymore. The café tilted sideways, and I was moving—being moved—toward the door.
The cold air hit my face but didn't help. Street lights smeared into streaks of yellow. Car horns sounded distant, underwater.
"Emily," I tried to say. "Emily's waiting..."
---
Nora's POV
Lena's full weight sagged against me as I half-carried her toward the curb. A taxi pulled over—thank God—and I shoved her into the backseat as gently as I could manage.
"Sterling Hotel," I told the driver.
Lena's head lolled against the window. Her lips moved, forming words I couldn't hear.
This is wrong, a voice whispered in my head. This is so wrong.
I silenced it. Pulled out my phone. Texted Marcus: On the way.
The hotel lobby was bright, sterile. The front desk clerk glanced at us with mild concern.
"My friend had too much to drink," I said smoothly. "Just need to get her upstairs."
He nodded, already losing interest.
In the elevator, Lena stirred slightly. "Don't... want to..."
"Shh." My voice sounded strange to my own ears. "Almost there."
The hallway was empty. Room 1208 was at the far end. My hand shook as I swiped the keycard.
The man was already inside. Young, attractive in a calculated way. Marcus's hired... actor.
"She's pretty out of it," he observed, looking Lena over.
I eased her onto the bed. She didn't resist, couldn't resist. Her jacket fell open. Her hair spread across the pillow.
She looked so small.
"Let's make this quick," the man said, unbuttoning his shirt.
He positioned himself next to her, one hand on her waist. I raised my phone, took the first photo.
Lena's face twitched. A small sound escaped her throat—not quite a whimper, more like a trapped animal's warning.
"Don't... touch me..."
The man laughed. "She's still got some fight in her."
He leaned closer, his hand moving to her collar.
And suddenly I was seeing someone else. Myself, years ago, in a situation I'd worked very hard to forget.
"Stop."
The man paused. "What?"
"I said stop. That's enough photos."
"The plan was—"
"The plan changed." My voice came out harder than I intended. "Take your money and leave."
"You said we'd go all the way. And a woman like this doesn't come around often. Can't waste—"
"Get out!" I practically screamed it. "Or I call security!"
He stared at me for a long moment, then grabbed his shirt with a disgusted sound. "Crazy bitch."
The door slammed behind him.
I stood there, alone with Lena's unconscious form and the photos on my phone. Photos that would destroy her reputation, her firm, her entire life.
My finger hovered over the send button.
You're not a victim, Lena had said. You're just using victimhood as an excuse.
I sat down hard on the floor, the phone slipping from my grip.
What had I become?