CHAPTER 4

The street lights flickered above me like dying stars as I ran, arms pumping, heart pounding against the weight in my chest. The town was a blur of shadows and cold wind, but I didn’t slow down. I didn’t have a destination. I just needed to move— needed to get away from the suffocating guilt clawing through me.

I couldn’t even bear to picture the look on my mother’s face when I brought Aria home. My father had been shocked too, even in his perpetual drunken state. 

Victor was going to die because of me.

Aria’s hand— her gift, her future— was crushed because I couldn’t even do a damn thing right.

And all I had to show for my clever little plan was a few blood stained bills and a broken family.

The air sliced down my throat with every breath, but I couldn’t stop. My legs burned, my lungs screamed, but I ignored everything. I ran past dark storefronts and shuttered windows, past sleeping houses and the far off sound of sirens. My sneakers slapped against pavement soaked with last night’s rain, and my thoughts played on a loop:

This is all your fault.

You destroyed everything.

I didn’t know how long I stayed out. Hours. The sky began to pale from black to bruised gray. My body ached with exhaustion, and my emotions had numbed into a dull, constant throb.

By the time I stumbled back to our apartment, the sun was rising— thin golden light slicing through the smog. I slipped in quietly, the front door creaking just a little, and padded through the narrow hallway to the shared bedroom I and Aria once called ours.

The bed was empty now, Aria’s arm wrapped in bandages, her body likely twisted in pain on the couch. I didn’t look. I couldn’t.

I dropped onto the edge of the bed, head in my hands. My muscles trembled from the cold and guilt and grief I couldn’t even name. I had failed.

And now there was no plan left.

Five minutes later, my mother’s voice called gently through the crack in the bedroom door.

“Lani… there’s someone here to see you.”

I blinked, lifting my head. “What?”

My mother hesitated. “He’s waiting outside. In a… very expensive car. Are you in trouble dear? What did you do?”

“I– I don’t– I’m so sorry mom.” I whispered. I had no idea what exactly I was apologizing for, but maybe it was everything. Sorry for what happened to Aria. sorry for not being a better daughter. Just sorry.

Confused and still half dead from the night’s run, I got to my feet and shuffled to the window. Parked in front of our building was a sleek black car that looked like it belonged in a movie. And leaning against it, dressed in a dark coat and an expression that gave away absolutely nothing, was Dean Caldwell.

My heart stopped.

I turned, hugged my mother tightly, gave her the money from the previous evening without a word, then walked through the front door. Every step down the stairs felt like it might be my last.

I was sure of it: he had changed his mind. He was going to hand me over. Maybe not to the police— no, the Caldwells had their own way of dealing with thieves. Quiet, final ways.

I didn’t speak as I approached him.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Good morning.”

I crossed my arms. “If you’re here to throw me in the trunk, at least let me say goodbye first.”

His lips twitched. “You’re dramatic.”

I didn’t reply. Just waited.

Dean opened the car door. “Get in.”

With a final glance back at the apartment, I stepped into the car and the door was closed behind me.

The ride was quiet, tense. I didn’t ask where we were going. Dean didn’t offer. He just leaned back in the leather seat, glancing at me occasionally with that unreadable expression I hated so much.

The town began to fade as the car climbed up through the private roads that led to the wealthiest part of town. Even the air was crispier here. Eventually, the Caldwell estate came into view again— but this time, stripped of the glamour and nightlight magic. In the morning sun, with even more uniformed men holding guns than last night, it looked cold and imposing, a fortress instead of a palace.

The massive iron gates opened silently, and the car rolled up the long stone driveway. The mansion’s sleek, modern design was carved into clean white marble and glass, all sharp angles and arrogance. The fountains were still running, the statues still standing, but there was no music now. No crowds. Just silence. It was almost like last night didn’t happen.

A few uniformed workers moved about like ghosts. A gardener trimming hedges. A woman scrubbing a spotless window.

My door opened once we parked. “Follow me.” Dean ordered.

I did, my jaw clenched, my heart hammering with every step.

We entered through the main doors and moved through a bright, sunlit foyer. The luxury felt offensive now— like it was mocking me.

Dean led me into a side lounge where two people were already waiting.

One of them was Mason Caldwell, lounging in an armchair in a black shorts, sipping something gold from a crystal glass. The other— The other was a woman who didn’t need to speak to command a room. Evelyn Caldwell. The second wife of Richard Caldwell. 

She sat tall, her posture stiff as marble, her salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a flawless bun. She wore pearls, crimson lipstick, and a scowl as sharp as her diamond encrusted earrings.

“This is the girl?” Evelyn asked, her tone dripping with disdain as she looked me up and down like I was dirt on her very designer shoe.

Dean nodded once.

“Hmm,” Evelyn said, unimpressed. “You look barely competent. I have no idea why you were recommended. I suppose it doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

Recommended? For what? By who? I turned to look at Dean but he wasn’t looking at me. Mason smirked and gave me a mock salute. That was it. No words, nothing.

I didn’t flinch. This was how they all acted. I wondered if they knew what I did last night. But it didn’t seem that way.

“I assume you understand your position,” Evelyn continued, already turning away.

I said nothing. I was still very confused..

“You’ll work here now. Cleaning, organizing, serving— whatever is asked of you. Consider it a great honour.” She looked me up and down as she said it, insinuating that I definitely looked like I needed their money. If you perform adequately, you’ll be allowed to continue working here. If not…”

She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to.

Dean stood against the far wall, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.

“You’ll begin your duties today,” Evelyn said, standing. “And tomorrow, you will serve at the Caldwell luncheon downtown. Wear something presentable. No one wants to eat with a rat in the room.”

With that, she swept out of the lounge.

Mason stood and stretched lazily and followed after his mother. 

I turned slowly toward Dean. “A job? Really? You’re seriously making me work for you?”

Dean pushed off the wall. “I’m the reason you’re not in a cell right now. And now I give you a steady source of income too. You should be thankful.”

I stared at him, fists clenched. “Why did you even bother?”

His eyes met mine. Cold. Calculated.

“Get to work, Lani,” he said, and walked away.