Chapter 160
Elara
The market went silent around us. Or maybe that was just my
perception narrowing to this single moment of crystallized injustice.
“You want me to pay you,” I heard myself say, testing the words for reality. “For a portrait you commissioned. That you sat for. That you
just said you didn’t want.”
“Exactly.” Her smile widened. “Now, you can either pay me, or-
“Or I’ll call the police,” I said, pulling out my phone before I could second–guess myself. “And we’ll let them decide who’s trying to extort
whom.”
Her face went pale beneath her makeup. “This is ridiculous. I’m not staying here to be insulted by some-”
“Please don’t leave, ma’am,” I said, my voice artificially calm. “The police will want to hear both sides.”
The patrol car arrived within twenty minutes. Two officers–one older and clearly tired, one younger and trying to project authority. The
Chapter 160
older one, listened to both our stories with the weary patience of
someone who’d seen every variation of human stupidity.
In the end, he made her pay me the fifty dollars. Made her throw it at
me like I was a servant being tipped for poor service. And when she
stalked off, her Birkin bag swinging with enough force to be a
weapon, I felt hollow despite the victory.
Three hours of my life. Three hours of being systematically
humiliated. All for fifty dollars.
“You okay?” the older police officer asked.
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
But I wasn’t okay. I wasn’t even close to okay.
We were packing up, Raven muttering creative threats under her breath, when her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, and her expression shifted from anger to something darker.
“Elara.” She held up her phone. “That woman. Right before she got in
her Uber, I saw her making a call. And I’m pretty sure the name on her
screen was ‘Victoria Vane.“”
The world tilted sideways.
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Chapter 162
wall. Through the archway ahead, I could see into the grand ballroom
where the engagement party was in full swing. The space had been
transformed into something out of a fairy tale–or perhaps a
magazine spread on how the one percent celebrated their unions.
Enormous floral arrangements dominated every surface, their blooms
so perfect they looked artificial. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic
light across the assembled guests, making their jewelry sparkle and
their champagne glasses gleam.
And there, at the center of it all, stood Sloane.
She was radiant in a champagne–colored gown that draped elegantly
over her growing belly, one hand resting protectively on the subtle
swell. Her hair was swept up in an elaborate style that must have
taken hours, her makeup flawless, her smile serene and satisfied as
she accepted congratulations from a circle of admirers. She looked
every inch the perfect bride–to–be, the ideal partner for a man like
Julian Vane–beautiful, accomplished, pregnant with his heir.
But Julian himself was conspicuously absent from her side.
I scanned the crowd, searching for his familiar form among the sea of
tuxedos and evening gowns, but he was nowhere to be seen. Sloane’s
smile had a brittle quality around the edges, I noticed, and her free
hand kept adjusting the diamond bracelet on her wrist in a gesture that might have been nervousness if she were anyone less composed.
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Chapter 160
reality itself was fracturing.
“Elara?” Raven’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “What is
it?”
I handed her my phone wordlessly. Watched her face cycle through
confusion, recognition, fury.
“That motherfucker.” She looked up, eyes blazing. “He even came to the school to look for you the day before yesterday, and now he’s—” She seemed to choke on her own rage. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Get in line,” I said, my voice strange and light, like this was happening to someone else.
“This isn’t funny!”
“I know.” And I did know. I knew it should hurt more than it did,
should feel like the betrayal it obviously was. But all I felt was a cold, crystalline clarity. “But I’m going anyway.”
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