Bianca sat alone in her dimly lit apartment, the floor cold against her bare legs as she tilted her head back and took another long sip of her drink.
Her apartment was in complete disarray—empty bottles scattered around, a few half-eaten snacks sitting on the coffee table, and her phone lying face down beside her.
But Bianca couldn’t care less.
Because all she could think about was Serena.
Serena.
The woman who refused to just disappear.
The woman who should have drowned in that accident.
The woman who, despite everything, still had the attention of the men around her.
Bianca let out a bitter laugh, gripping the glass in her hand so tightly her fingers turned white.
The fact that Serena survived was already frustrating enough.
But what made it even worse was the message she had
