Chapter 47 THE GHOST
POV: Selena
I am already dialing Adrian back when my phone slips from my hand.
It hits the carpet and skids toward the bed. The sound is small, but it makes my chest seize like something just shattered.
Jessica Martinez.
Alive.
I pick the phone up with shaking fingers and call Adrian again. This time he answers on the first ring.
“Selena?”
“She called me,” I say. “Jessica Martinez called me.”
There is a pause. I hear movement on his end, the rustle of fabric, a door closing.
“What do you mean she called you?” he asks carefully.
“I mean she spoke to me,” I say. “Just now. She told me not to marry you.”
Another pause. Longer.
“You are sure it was her?”
“Yes,” I say. “I did not want it to be. But yes.”
“I am coming over,” he says immediately.
“No,” I say, surprising myself with the sharpness of it. “If this is real, I do not want anyone tracking you to me. Not tonight.”
He exhales. “Then stay on the line with me.”
I sit on the bed and wrap the sheet around my shoulders like armor. My heart still has not slowed.
“She sounded scared,” I say. “Not threatening. Not smug. Scared.”
“Did she say where she was?”
“No. The call ended.”
“Can you send me the number?”
I glance at the screen. Unknown caller, but the digits are there.
“I am sending it now.”
Within minutes, Marcus is looped in. I hear his voice through Adrian’s phone, calm and precise. He asks questions I did not think to ask.
How long was the call?
Did she mention names?
Did she say who she was afraid of?
I answer as best I can, frustration rising with every I do not know.
“This could be bait,” Marcus says finally. “Someone trying to destabilize you before the wedding.”
“I know,” I say. “But it did not feel like that.”
Adrian cuts in. “Trace the number.”
“I already am,” Marcus replies. “Give me a few minutes.”
Those minutes stretch. I pace the apartment, every shadow suddenly suspect. I replay the call again and again, searching for cracks.
Jessica’s voice had been thinner than I remembered. Less polished. Like someone who had learned to speak quietly to avoid being noticed.
My phone buzzes.
Marcus.
“I have something,” he says. “The number is a burner. Cheap prepaid. But I pulled location data from the last ping.”
“And?” Adrian asks.
“Baltimore,” Marcus says. “Near a women’s shelter on the east side.”
My breath catches.
“A shelter?” I repeat.
“Yes.”
Adrian does not hesitate. “We are going.”
“You are not,” Marcus says. “You are staying put.”
“I am not letting her go alone,” Adrian snaps.
“I am going with Marcus,” I say suddenly.
Both of them fall silent.
“Selena,” Adrian starts.
“If this is real,” I say, “she called me for a reason. Not you. Me.”
Marcus exhales slowly. “That makes sense.”
Adrian’s voice tightens. “I do not like this.”
“I do not either,” I say. “But I am not hiding.”
There is a beat.
“I will stay on the line,” Adrian says. “The whole time.”
The drive to Baltimore feels unreal. Marcus drives fast but controlled, eyes scanning mirrors more than the road. The city lights blur past, and my hands stay clenched in my lap.
“What if she panics when she sees us?” I ask.
“Let me do the talking first,” Marcus says. “You follow my lead.”
The shelter is a converted brick building tucked between a laundromat and a closed pharmacy. A flickering light buzzes above the entrance. It does not look like anywhere secrets should surface.
Inside, the air smells like disinfectant and old coffee. A tired looking woman at the desk glances up.
“We are looking for someone,” Marcus says, his tone polite and unassuming. “A woman named Jessica.”
The woman’s expression changes. Subtle, but unmistakable.
“I cannot give out names,” she says.
“I understand,” Marcus replies. “We are family.”
I step forward. “She called me,” I say softly. “She is scared.”
The woman studies my face. Something in her gaze softens.
“Wait here,” she says finally.
We do.
Every second stretches thin. My pulse pounds in my ears. I feel like I am standing on the edge of something that could either save us or destroy us.
A door opens down the hall.
A woman steps out.
She is thinner than I remember. Her hair is cut short, uneven, like she did it herself. Her eyes are wide and ringed with exhaustion.
She turns.
It is her.
“Oh God,” she whispers. “He found me, did he not? That is why you are here.”
“No,” I say quickly, stepping toward her. “No one sent us. You called me.”
Her gaze flicks to Marcus, then back to me.
“You are Selena,” she says. “The intern.”
“Yes.”
Her shoulders sag, relief and fear crashing together. She presses a hand to her mouth, breathing hard.
“I did not think anyone would come,” she says.
Marcus closes the distance slowly. “Jessica, we are here to help you.”
She laughs, short and brittle. “That is what they said before.”
“Who?” I ask.
Her eyes dart to the hallway behind her.
“Thornton,” she says. “And the people who work for him.”
The world tilts.
“What did he do to you?” I ask.
She looks at me like she is deciding whether I deserve the truth.
“He made me disappear,” she says. “Then he made sure I stayed that way.”
My stomach drops.
“Selena,” Adrian’s voice murmurs through my phone, still connected. “Stay calm.”
“I tried to expose him,” Jessica continues. “The documents. The altered records. He caught me before I could go public.”
“What happened?” Marcus asks.
“They told everyone I ran,” she says. “That I stole files and vanished. Then they threatened my family.”
My hands curl into fists.
“They said if I stayed quiet, no one would get hurt,” she whispers. “I believed them.”
“And now?” I ask.
“And now you are marrying into the family he hates,” she says. “Which means he is going to burn everything around you.”
Silence settles between us, heavy and real.
“You have proof,” Marcus says carefully. “Do not you?”
Jessica hesitates. Then she nods.
“I hid copies,” she says. “Not everything. But enough.”
My heart leaps.
“Where?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not here. And not yet.”
“Jessica,” I say, stepping closer, lowering my voice. “We can protect you.”
She meets my gaze, eyes shining with something like hope and terror mixed together.
“You already are,” she says. “By standing where I fell.”
The weight of that lands hard.
Marcus straightens. “We need to get you somewhere safer.”
Her eyes widen. “You cannot move me. He watches shelters. He watches hospitals. He watches anyone who helps girls like me.”
A chill runs through me.
“Then tell us how to bring him down,” I say.
She studies my face again. Really studies it.
“You are not afraid enough,” she says quietly.
“I am terrified,” I reply. “I am just tired of being quiet.”
Something in her expression shifts.
“Okay,” she says. “I will tell you.”
Outside, a car door slams somewhere down the street.
Jessica flinches violently.
“That is him,” she whispers.
Marcus’s hand goes to his phone.
I feel my pulse spike.
“Jessica,” I say, gripping her arm. “You are not alone anymore.”
Her eyes meet mine.
“I hope you are right,” she says. “Because once I talk, there is no hiding again.”
And in that moment, I know the wedding is no longer the most dangerous thing ahead of me.
Thornton has been playing a long game.
And we just stepped fully onto his board.