CHAPTER TWO
882 Words
Lilith POV
I Switched on my phone just as it came back it started vibrating.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The screen lit up with the same persistent tag:
**Unknown Number.**
I should have let it ring. Every survival instinct screamed at me to drop the phone, get into my car, and drive until the city faded to a blur.
Instead, I pressed the phone to my ear.
"Hello?"
Static hissed through the speaker. Then, a man’s voice, low and entirely unhurried, cut through the white noise.
"Congratulations."
My brows pulled together. "...Who is this?"
"I thought you'd sound happier."
My fingers tightened around the glass casing of the phone. "You have the wrong person."
A faint, dry chuckle drifted down the line. "No, Lilith. I never call the wrong person."
Ice trickled down my spine. *He knew my name.*
"Who are you?"
"You've seen the news, haven't you?"
My gaze drifted back toward the electronic shop across the street. On the display screens, Sean was still standing beside the woman in the ivory silk dress. Flashbulbs detonated around them in a blinding storm while reporters pressed forward with questions neither of them deigned to answer.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "What do you want?"
"I just wanted to make sure your plan succeeded."
"My... *plan*?"
"You really are a remarkable actress."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't you?" His voice remained infuriatingly calm. Almost amused. "Then tell me something, Lilith."
He paused, the static humming in the silence.
"Did you know he was engaged *before* you slept with him?"
The question slammed into my chest, stealing the air right out of my lungs.
"You—"
The line went dead.
"Wait—"
I pulled the device away from my face. *Call Ended.*
I stared at the black glass, catching the reflection of my own face: drained of color, wide-eyed, stripped of control.
Who was he? How did he know about Sean? And why was he talking as if I had orchestrated any of this?
I barely knew Sean. Three months ago, he had been nothing more than a stranger with dangerous grey eyes and a quiet authority that made terrible decisions feel entirely reasonable. I hadn't even known his last name.
If I had... I never would have left that building with him.
*At least, that’s the lie I kept telling myself.*
A sharp horn blared nearby, causing me to flinch. Pedestrians brushed past me, umbrellas colliding overhead as they rushed to escape the downpour. The city kept moving, indifferent, while my own world ground to a sudden halt.
I shoved the pregnancy test deeper into my bag, pulled my coat tightly around my shoulders, and started walking without direction.
Left. Right. Straight ahead.
My mind refused to stay in the rain-slicked present. It kept pulling me backward, dragging me down into the memories I’d spent ninety days trying to bury.
Back to the rain.
Back to the heavy, pulsing bass.
Back to the night that had rewritten everything.
I remembered standing outside a slate-gray building beneath a flickering neon sign. I remembered the heavy weight of hesitation in my gut.
*Walk away, Lilith,* I had told myself. *You still have time.*
I should have listened.
Instead, I had reached for the heavy brass handle.
Three Months Earlier
The bass hit me before the heavy oak door even swung shut behind me. It vibrated up through the soles of my heels, thrumming against my ribs like an erratic second heartbeat.
The underground club was an exercise in calculated opulence. Dark. Loud. Volatile. Shadowed silhouettes moved beneath amber and neon strobes, lost in a wall of sound far too deafening for conversation and far too intoxicating to ignore.
The air carried a bitter edge—expensive perfume, top-shelf bourbon, and lingering smoke.
I hated places like this. Which meant I couldn't afford to look out of place.
I smoothed the line of my black tailored dress, tilted my chin, and cut through the crowd with measured confidence. Tonight, blending in was the only form of protection I had. Not until I made contact with the person I was sent to meet.
I scanned the lower VIP section once. Nothing.
Twice. Still no sign of him.
"Looking for someone?"
A glass of iced water slid across the polished mahogany counter before I could even open my mouth. I blinked, turning toward the bartender.
"I didn't order this."
"You looked like you needed water more than a cocktail," he replied, wiping down the bar with a dry cloth.
I offered a slight, guarded smile. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only to someone paying attention."
I wrapped my fingers around the condensation-slick glass, but I didn't drink. My eyes swept the room again.
He was late. Or worse—he had no intention of showing up at all.
The thought should have brought relief, but it only sharpened the tension coiling in my stomach. If tonight fell apart, everything I had worked to build over the last six months went down with it.
*Stay calm,* I reminded myself, drawing in a slow, even breath. *Wait.*
I had no way of knowing that while I was searching the dark room for a ghost, someone else had already locked his eyes on me.
- Writer
