Madly Yours (Nora Reed) novel Chapter 139

After jumping through countless hoops, Tiffany Lancaster finally tracked down Serena Sinclair.

It was dusk by the time her car pulled up to Serena's apartment building.

The Mexican sunset painted the horizon in a violent shade of orange, creating a jarring contrast with the grimy, gray exterior of the dilapidated building.

After being forcefully exiled from San Francisco overnight by the Sinclair family, Serena had bounced between a few locations before finally landing in this remote border slum in Mexico.

Calling it an apartment was generous; it was an aging, crumbling tenement. The motion-sensor lights in the stairwell flickered weakly, the paint was peeling in chunks, and the air reeked of damp mildew.

When Tiffany stepped out of her car, her brow furrowed so hard she could have crushed a fly between her eyebrows.

"She actually lives here?"

"Yes, Ms. Lancaster," the bodyguard beside her replied with a bow.

Tiffany said nothing more, marching forward in her stilettos.

The bodyguards quickly flanked her, one stepping ahead to clear the path, others remaining on high alert to scan their surroundings.

The lights were completely busted on the third floor, forcing the bodyguards to switch on their phone flashlights.

When the hem of Tiffany's dress brushed against the dust-caked banister, she pinched it up in sheer disgust, her expression darkening even further.

She couldn't fathom how she had been reduced to personally visiting a dump like this.

But her cousin's wedding was at the end of the month. She had to rip the mask off Jade Reed before then.

She had spent ages digging into that woman's past but found absolutely nothing—it was as if someone had deliberately wiped her existence from every database.

Serena Sinclair was her only remaining lead.

Eventually, she managed to contact Serena.

And so, here she was.

Even if she hated every miserable second of it.

Fourth floor, end of the hall.

The bodyguard rapped on the door. From inside came the sound of shuffling, accompanied by a woman's low string of curses.

"Who is it?"

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