Sarah counted her change under the flickering café lights—tips from twelve hours of hauling trays and dodging stares. A former heiress now labeled a fall-from-grace curiosity. Cellphones often tilted her way. She stopped caring.
At night, the silence in the basement apartment was louder than traffic. The cracked ceiling pulsed with shadows. Her pillow still smelled like chlorine and dust.
She made no calls.
No one came.
Until he did.
Raymond.
It was past midnight. Rain slicked the pavement. A fist pounded the metal door.
Sarah froze.
Another knock—harder.
She opened it just a crack.
Raymond stood there, soaked and breathing heavily, the scent of whiskey lingering on his coat.
“What are you doing here?"
“You live like this?" he growled, stepping inside without permission. “This
