The morning light filtering through the cheap, grease-stained polyester curtains of the mid-tier hotel room didn't feel like a new day. It felt like a verdict.
I woke up curled in a tight, protective ball on the stiff mattress, my throat raw and aching, my eyes swollen from crying until there were no tears left to give. My silk sleep shirt was twisted uncomfortably around my waist, and my limbs felt heavy, weighted down by a profound, bone-deep exhaustion. For a terrifying, fleeting second, I hoped it had all been a nightmare—that I would wake up in my own bed, that Leo hadn't betrayed me, and that Julian’s hands hadn't been locked around Elena’s waist in a dimly lit penthouse suite.
Then the sharp, chemical smell of industrial bleach hit my nose, and reality came crashing back with t
