Chapter 2 – My Best Friend Helped Them Kill Me

"Calista! Pick up the phone, you beautiful genius, because I am currently standing outside Dorian’s penthouse holding a smashed gingerbread house and enough rage to power the entire eastern seaboard!" I yell into my smartphone as I march briskly down the marbled corridor toward the private elevator.

The line clicks open after three rings, and Calista Wren’s smooth, syrupy voice purrs through the speaker:"Zinnia? Darling, why are you yelling? I’m actually waiting in the VIP lounge right downstairs in the lobby.Come down—I brought extra hot cocoa and we can talk everything through."

"Oh, thank God! You’re a lifesaver, Calista! I just caught Dorian and Belladonna—well, let’s just say they’re lucky I left my flamethrower in my other purse!" I say, slamming my thumb against the elevator call button until the brass doors slide open.

Two minutes later, I burst through the heavy glass doors of the private VIP lounge on the ground floor, only to stop dead in my tracks. Calista isn't sitting beside a tray of marshmallows and hot cocoa. She’s leaning casually against the mahogany bar, swirling a glass of champagne, while Dorian—now wearing a hastily buttoned trench coat over his silk pajamas—stands beside her holding a manila folder and a heavy fountain pen.

"What is this, an intervention?" I demand, crossing my arms and glaring at both of them. "Because unless you’re intervening to tell me Dorian spontaneously combusted in the stairwell, I’m calling my legal team in thirty seconds."

Calista lets out a low, theatrical sigh, setting her champagne flute down on the marble counter. "Honestly,Zinnia, you always were hopelessly gullible. Did you really think I spent the last six years listening to you ramble about charitable foundations and family trusts out of the goodness of my heart?"

I blink once, twice, staring at the woman who stood beside me at my mother’s funeral. "Excuse me? Are you having a stroke, Calista, or did Belladonna’s cheap perfume rot your frontal lobe?"

"I’ve been feeding Belladonna and Dorian every single password, bank routing number, and quarterly audit report from your private office since last spring," Calista replies smoothly, checking her manicured fingernails."Do you have any idea how exhausting it is pretending to be best friends with someone who actually believes in loyalty?"

"You helped them forge my financial records?!" I shout, stepping forward with my fists clenched so tightly my knuckles turn white. "I paid off your student loans! I bought your mother’s condo! I gave you a seat on the executive board!"

"And now you’re going to give us the rest of the Vexley estate," Dorian snaps, stepping forward and slapping the thick manila folder onto the glass coffee table between us. "Sign the asset transfer waiver right now, Zinnia.Belladonna and I will let you keep a modest monthly allowance so you don't end up begging on the street."

"Sign it?" I bark out a sharp, incredulous laugh, picking up the heavy fountain pen and snapping it cleanly in half between my thumbs. "Here’s my signature, Dorian: go choke on a poisoned candy cane! I’m walking out that door, calling the police, and having all three of you arrested for conspiracy, fraud, and—honestly, whatever felony covers wearing someone else’s diamond ring without permission!"

I spin around toward the lobby exit, only to collide squarely with a towering security guard in an unmarked black suit blocking the doorway. Before I can even raise my hands to shove him aside, a sharp, stinging pinch pierces the side of my neck.

"What the—did you just—" My words slur instantly as my knees buckle beneath me. The chandelier overhead spins violently into a blur of gold and white crystal, and I crash sideways onto the plush velvet sofa, unable to lift a single finger as cold paralysis sweeps through my limbs.

"Careful with her head, we don't want bloodstains on the lobby carpet," Calista instructs briskly, her voice sounding miles away through a thick fog. "Load her into the back of the delivery van. Nobody checks the old industrial meatpacking warehouse down by the river at midnight."

"Are you sure about burning the whole building down?" Dorian asks nervously as rough hands hoist my limp body up by my shoulders and ankles. "What if the fire department gets there too fast?"

"By the time anyone sees smoke in this snowstorm, there won't be enough left of Zinnia Vexley to fill a matchbox," Calista replies coldly. "Besides, tragic electrical fires happen in abandoned warehouses all the time. Now move!"

Cold night air hits my face briefly as I am dumped unceremoniously onto rusted, freezing concrete. Heavy iron warehouse doors slam shut with a booming echo that rattles my skull, followed by the metallic screech of a heavy padlock snapping into place from the outside.

Through half-lidded, blurry eyes, I watch thick streams of amber liquid splash across the wooden pallets stacked along the walls. A match flares brightly through the crack beneath the iron door, and within seconds, a roaring wall of orange flame erupts across the dry timber with a deafening WHOOSH.

"Hey! Let me out! You pathetic, cowardly—cough, cough!" I choke violently as thick, suffocating black smoke billows instantly toward the rafters, scorching my lungs with every shallow breath.

Forcing my heavy, drugged limbs to obey, I drag myself across the gritty concrete floor toward a barred ventilation window ten feet away, coughing uncontrollably as blazing wooden beams crash down behind me in showers of sparks. My fingernails scrape uselessly against the bolted steel bars while the heat turns the air into a blast furnace, blistering my skin and filling my throat with ash.

Just as my vision fades to black and my body collapses against the scorching concrete wall, a bizarre, melodic chime cuts straight through the roar of the inferno, and a glowing blue holographic window materializes inches from my face:

[ALERT: CRITICAL TIMELINE ANOMALY DETECTED. HOST VITAL SIGNS FAILING. CURRENT LIFE EXPECTANCY IN PRESENT TIMELINE: 00 MINUTES, 04 SECONDS... 03 SECONDS...]

"Great," I wheeze out between violent coughs, staring up at the floating blue text through watering eyes. "Even my hallucinations have a countdown timer."