6-

MELANIE

My eyes catch my daughter in the rearview mirror. She's distracted, turning her plush pink rabbit upside down and babbling nonsense to it. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my shaking hands.

My phone, sitting in the cup holder, suddenly starts buzzing.

The screen lights up... SAINT.

My throat constricts instantly. My hand hovers over the console, before I finally press the speakerphone icon on the dashboard.

"Where the hell are you?" Saint’s voice. No are you okay, no where is our daughter. Just raw, anger.

I grip the steering wheel tighter. "I took Milan out. She was hungry."

A mocking laugh comes through the line. "Don't bullshit me, Melanie! You walked out of here like a dramatic brat, and now you're telling me you're just out getting breakfast? Who were you with?"

"I was overwhelmed, Saint!" I say back, my voice cracking despite my best efforts to keep it steady. "You threw things! You smashed her birthday cake across the counter, you snatched Milan out of my arms, and then you had the nerve to tell me I was the problem!"

"Because you are the problem!" Saint barks. "You can't take a single disagreement without turning it into a complete disaster. Now turn that car around and bring my daughter back to the house right now. We have the foundation press conference at two, and I'm not dealing with your pathetic little stunts today."

"I'm not coming to the press conference, Saint."

"What did you just say to me?"

"I said no," I say, the words feeling solid on my tongue, even as my knees shake under the dashboard. "I'm not standing next to you smiling for the cameras like everything is fine. I'm taking Milan to a safe place."

"You listen to me very carefully, Melanie," Saint sneers. "You don't have a dime to your name. I blocked every single one of your cards last night before you even made it to the highway. You think you can survive out there on your own? You'll be back on your knees begging me within twenty-four hours."

"I won't," I whisper, though I can't help the panic that hits my gut as I remember the declined cards at The Sterling last night.

"Melanie..."

I hit the red disconnect button on the screen, severing the call before he can finish. The silence that fills the car is deafening.

Seconds later, the phone buzzes again... a text notification this time. I glance down briefly at the console.

Alex: He’s going to track your car’s GPS the second he realizes you aren't coming back. Pull into the diner on 4th Street. My driver is waiting in a silver SUV in the back alley to swap vehicles with you.

I stare at the screen in disbelief. How did he... how did he already know? Was he monitoring Saint? Was he watching me right now?

"Mama?" Milan’s voice chirps from the backseat. "Hungry."

I glance in the rearview mirror at her eyes, completely innocent and oblivious to everything waging around us. I swallow down the lump in my throat, signal right, and turn the steering wheel toward 4th Street.

"I'm sorry, baby," I whisper. "I'll get you something to eat soon."

I pull the SUV into a crowded parking lot of the 4th Street diner, my hands still slick with cold sweat against the leather steering wheel. Through the rearview mirror, I scan the back alley. Sure enough, a sleek silver SUV is parked idling near the industrial dumpsters, its tinted windows blacked out.

Alexander doesn't miss a single detail. He never has.

Before I can unbuckle my seatbelt to move Milan, my phone vibrates in the cup holder again. My heart drops into my stomach, expecting Saint’s name or another command from Alex, but the screen displays a familiar caller ID... Coral.

Coral. Her husband, Marcus, is one of Saint’s closest business partners and closest friends. They ran in the exact same ruthless, high-society circles, and usually, Coral was just as superficial as the rest of them.

I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the screen. Answering felt like walking into an ambush. But after two more buzzing pulses, I swipe the green icon and press the phone to my ear.

"Coral?"

"Melanie! Oh, thank God you answered," Coral's voice comes through the line, but it isn't filled with the usual gossip-hungry effect. She sounds panicked. "Are you okay? Where are you right now?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, leaning my forehead against the frame of the steering wheel. "I'm fine, Coral. If Saint sent you to find out where I am so he can..."

"Saint didn't send me, Melanie," Coral interrupts quickly. "Marcus came home an hour ago furious. He and Saint were on the phone, and Saint was swearing up and down that he’s going to ruin you. Melanie, Marcus told me what happened at the house... about the cake, and how Saint spoke to you. It's disgusting."

"Marcus told you?"

"Yes! Marcus might be loyal to Saint in business, but even he thought Saint crossed a line last night," Coral says, letting out a sigh. "Listen to me, Mel. I know we’ve mostly just been 'event friends,' but I’ve watched the way that man treats you for years. You don't deserve this, and neither does Milan."

A lump forms in my throat. I haven't heard a single kind, validating word from anyone in my inner circle in months. My own mother treated me like a disgraced asset, yet here was Coral, standing on the outside, calling it what it actually was.

"I just... I don't know what to do, Coral," I whisper, a tear slipping past my eyelashes. "He froze all my accounts. I don't have anywhere to go."

"I know. That's why I'm calling," Coral says softly. "I'm at our guesthouse in Upper East. Marcus is at the office all day, and Saint has no idea I'm reaching out to you. Please, just bring Milan and come over here. We'll get some food into her, you can take a shower, and we can talk about a real plan. No pressure, no judgment. I just want to help you."

I hold the phone against my ear.

Is this a trap? Did Marcus set this up with Saint to corner me? Or is Coral actually offering me a lifeline?

Skepticism burns in my chest. In Saint’s world, loyalty is bought and sold every single day, and trusting the wife of his best friend feels like handing my head on a silver platter. But as I look back at Milan, who is currently chewing on her bunny’s ear and looking exhausted, I realize I am running out of safe corners.

"Melanie? Are you still there?" Coral asks gently.

I take a long breath, looking toward the silver SUV waiting in the alley.

"I'm here," I say quietly. "Okay... fine. I'll come. But Coral... if you told Saint about this..."

"I swear on my life, Melanie, he doesn't know," Coral promises. "Just get here safely."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," I reply, hanging up the phone before I can second-guess myself.

I step out of the car, grab my stuff, unbuckle a sleepy Milan from her seat and pull her against my hip.