CHAPTER TWO

Leslie stumbled through the parking lot, her vision blurred with tears.

She needed to leave. Now. Before anyone else saw her like this.

She pulled out her phone with shaking hands and opened the cab app. Her fingers were still sticky. The smell made her want to vomit.

The same app she’d used to get here. Because Tony never let her ride in his car. Never let her use any of the family vehicles.

“You’ll take cabs like you used to,” his mother had said on their wedding day. “Don’t get comfortable. You’re not family. You’re temporary help.”

And Tony had nodded. Agreed. Like it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

So Leslie took cabs. Always. Even to events like this where everyone else arrived in luxury cars with drivers in uniforms.

She’d gotten used to the shame of it. The way the valet attendants looked at her when she climbed out of a beaten-up Toyota instead of a Mercedes. The way other guests whispered when they saw her arriving alone, without her husband.

But tonight, standing here covered in filth, that shame felt like it would swallow her whole.

Searching for nearby drivers.

Leslie’s hands were shaking so badly she almost dropped the phone.

“Please,” she whispered to the screen. “Please, please, please.”

No drivers available in your area.

“No.” Her voice cracked. “No, no, no.”

She refreshed the app. Tried again.

No drivers available.

Of course. This was the rich part of town. The fancy district where galas and charity events happened. Nobody drove cabs here. Nobody needed them.

Everyone had money.

Everyone except her.

Leslie looked around desperately. The parking lot stretched out before her, filled with cars that cost more than her mother’s house. Drivers stood beside them, waiting. But none of them were for her.

She tried the app again.

Estimated wait time: 25 minutes.

Twenty-five minutes. She’d have to stand here, in this parking lot, smelling like this, for twenty-five minutes.

What if someone came out? What if they saw her? What if they took more pictures?

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

She walked further into the parking lot, trying to find a dark corner. Somewhere she could hide. Somewhere the lights wouldn’t reach her.

Her heels clicked against the pavement. Each step felt like it echoed, announcing her presence. Here’s the girl who got humiliated. Here’s the girl covered in shit. Here’s the girl whose husband told her to go home.

She found a spot near a concrete pillar, partially hidden by shadows.

She leaned against it and tried to breathe.

But the smell. God, the smell was everywhere. In her hair. On her dress. On her hands.

“Well, well, well.”

Leslie’s head snapped up.

Victoria stood a few feet away, illuminated by the parking lot lights. She looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine. Perfect. Untouchable. Her red dress shimmered under the lights. Her makeup was flawless. Her smile was sharp as a knife.

She moved the way she-wolves move, too smooth between steps, too aware of every shadow, the natural grace of something that had never once been prey.

“Victoria,” Leslie breathed.

“Hello, Leslie.” Victoria walked closer, her heels clicking deliberately. Slowly. Like a predator circling prey. “Having trouble getting home?”

Leslie’s jaw clenched. “Leave me alone.”

“Why would I do that?” Victoria stopped a few feet away, close enough that Leslie could smell her perfume. Expensive. Suffocating. “This is the most entertainment I’ve had all night.”

“I said leave me alone.”

“Or what?” Victoria’s eyebrows lifted. “You’ll cry harder? You’ll smell worse? Please, enlighten me.”

Leslie felt her nails dig into her palms. “What do you want?”

“Want?” Victoria laughed. It was a beautiful sound. Cold. “I don’t want anything from you, Leslie. You have nothing I could possibly want.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because watching you suffer brings me joy.” Victoria said it so simply. So honestly. Like she was commenting on the weather.

Leslie’s breath caught.

Victoria tilted her head, studying her. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“Why this happened.” Victoria gestured vaguely at Leslie’s ruined appearance. “Why you’re standing here, covered in dog shit, while your husband parties inside without you.”

Leslie’s stomach twisted. “You.”

“Me?” Victoria pressed a hand to her chest, eyes wide with fake innocence. “Did I put that filth in your hair? Did I make those people laugh at you? Did I tell Tony to humiliate you in front of everyone?”

“You did something.”

“Prove it.” Victoria’s smile widened. “Go ahead. Tell Tony. Tell his mother. Tell anyone who’ll listen. See if they believe you.”

The words hit Leslie like ice water.

Because Victoria was right. Nobody would believe her. She was nothing. Nobody. Just some poor girl who married into a world she didn’t belong in.

“Why?” Leslie’s voice came out broken. Small. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Victoria’s smile faded. Her eyes went cold. Dead.

“Because you took something that was mine,” she said quietly. Each word was precise. Controlled. Deadly. “Tony was supposed to marry me. We had plans. A future. Five years together, Leslie. Five years of building something, and then you.”

She stepped closer. So close Leslie could see the hatred burning in her eyes.

“Then you came along. With your pathetic little story and your desperate face. And suddenly I’m nothing. Replaced. Thrown away like I never mattered.”

“I didn’t, Tony chose.”

“Tony chose nothing!” Victoria’s voice rose, then immediately dropped back to that dangerous calm. “Tony does what his mother tells him. Always has. And for some reason, she wanted you. Not me. You.”

Leslie felt her chest tighten. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t.” Victoria laughed bitterly. “You’re just a pawn, Leslie. A tool they’re using for something. And when they’re done with you, they’ll throw you away too.”

“That’s not.”

“Isn’t it?” Victoria leaned in. “Tell me something. Why do you think Tony married you? Really. A billionaire’s son marrying a waitress? Does that sound normal to you?”

Leslie’s mouth went dry.

Because no. It didn’t sound normal. It had never made sense. Even when Tony’s mother approached her with the offer, one year of marriage, all her family’s debts paid, she’d known something was wrong.

But she’d been desperate. Her mother was sick. Her brother needed school fees. The debt collectors wouldn’t stop calling.

So she’d signed the contract without asking questions.

“That’s what I thought.” Victoria straightened. “You don’t even know why you’re here. You’re just playing a role you don’t understand, in a game you can’t win.”

“And what about you?” Leslie’s voice shook with anger now. “You’re so smart, so powerful, but you’re here in a parking lot, tormenting someone you think is beneath you. Does that make you feel better? Does it fill whatever hole Tony left?”

Victoria’s face went hard.

“Careful, Leslie.”

“No.” Something in Leslie snapped. Maybe it was the humiliation. Maybe it was the loneliness. Maybe it was just too many months of being treated like garbage. “You want to know the truth? I feel sorry for you.”

Victoria’s eyes flashed. “Excuse me?”

“You spent five years with Tony, and he threw you away in a second. What does that say about you? At least I know I’m temporary. At least I know this is fake. But you, you thought it was real. You thought he loved you. And now you’re so broken that the only way you can feel powerful is by hurting someone weaker than you.”

The parking lot went silent.

Victoria stared at her. Her face was pale. Her hands were clenched into fists.

For a moment, Leslie thought she’d gone too far. Thought Victoria might actually hit her.

But then Victoria laughed.

It was a horrible sound. Sharp. Brittle. Like breaking glass.

“Oh, Leslie.” Victoria shook her head slowly. “You have no idea what you’ve just done.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tonight was just the beginning.” Victoria’s smile returned, colder than before. “I was going to stop after this. Let you suffer through your little contract and disappear back to whatever hole you crawled out of. But now?”

She stepped closer. So close Leslie could feel her breath.

“Now I’m going to make sure every single day of your marriage is hell. I’m going to make you regret every word you just said. And when Tony and his mother finally throw you away, you’ll be so broken that no one will recognize you.”

Leslie’s blood ran cold.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Leslie.” Victoria’s voice was soft. Sweet. Poisonous. “Try not to cry too hard. It’ll ruin what’s left of your makeup.”

Victoria turned and walked back toward the gala, her red dress shimmering under the lights.

Her laughter echoed through the parking lot. High. Mocking. Cruel.

“Enjoy your ride home, Leslie!” she called over her shoulder. “Try washing that smell out before it becomes permanent!”

More laughter. It bounced off the concrete walls, off the expensive cars, off Leslie’s broken heart.

Then Victoria disappeared through the glass doors, back into the warmth and light and music.

Back to where she belonged.

Leslie stood there alone, shaking.

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

Your driver is arriving now.

She looked up and saw headlights approaching. An old sedan. Dented. The paint was faded.

Nothing like the luxury cars surrounding it.

The car pulled up beside her. The driver, an older man with tired eyes, rolled down his window.

“Leslie?” he asked.

She nodded, unable to speak.

He looked at her for a moment. His nose wrinkled slightly. But he didn’t say anything. Just unlocked the doors.

“Get in.”

Leslie climbed into the back seat. The leather was cracked. It smelled like old coffee and air freshener.

But it was warm. And dark. And away from the cameras.

She pulled the door shut and finally let herself breathe.

The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Rough night?”

Leslie pressed her face against the window. “Just drive. Please.”

He didn’t ask again.

The car pulled out of the parking lot. Past the valets. Past the luxury vehicles. Past the red carpet where she’d been destroyed just an hour ago.

Leslie watched the gala disappear behind them. The lights. The laughter. The people who had made her feel like nothing.

Tony was still in there. Probably drinking. Probably laughing. Probably relieved that she was gone.

Fresh tears slid down her cheeks.

She tried to wipe them away but they kept coming. Silent. Endless.

The driver said nothing. Just drove through the city streets, the radio playing soft music that Leslie couldn’t hear over the sound of her own heartbeat.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to the house.

Not her house. Never her house.

Tony’s house. His mother’s house. The place where she was allowed to stay but never welcomed.

It was massive. Three stories. White columns. Manicured lawns. Everything about it screamed money and power and class.

Everything Leslie wasn’t.

“Thank you,” she whispered, handing the driver cash from her small purse.

He took it and looked at her one more time. His eyes were kind. Sad.

“Whatever happened tonight,” he said quietly, “it wasn’t your fault.”

Leslie’s throat closed up. She nodded quickly and got out before she started crying again.

The car drove away, leaving her standing alone in the driveway.

She looked down at herself. The dress was completely ruined. Her hair was matted. She could still smell it, that awful, horrible smell.

She needed to get inside. To clean up. To disappear before anyone saw her like this.

She walked quickly to the front door and let herself in with the key they’d given her.

The house was dark. Empty. Cold.

Tony’s mother, Catherine, lived in the east wing. She had her own entrance. Her own staff. Her own world that Leslie was never invited into.

Leslie was grateful for that right now.

She kicked off her heels and ran up the stairs to her room. Her footsteps echoed through the empty hallway.

When she reached her bedroom, she locked the door behind her and finally let herself break.

She stripped off the dress and threw it in the corner. She’d burn it later. Or throw it away. She never wanted to see it again.

In the bathroom, she turned on the shower as hot as it would go and stepped under the spray.

The water ran brown at first. Then gray. Then finally clear.

She scrubbed her hair three times. Four times. Five times. Until her scalp hurt and her fingers were raw.

But she could still smell it.

Or maybe it was just in her head now.

She didn’t know anymore.

She stood under the water until it ran cold, then wrapped herself in a towel and sat on the edge of the bathtub.

The bathroom mirror was fogged up. She couldn’t see her reflection.

She was glad.

She didn’t want to see what she looked like right now. Didn’t want to see the girl who’d been destroyed in front of cameras and crowds and cruel, laughing faces.

Ten minutes passed.

Leslie dried off and put on an old t-shirt and sweatpants. Then she sat on her bed and stared at the wall.

She felt numb. Empty.

Like something inside her had died tonight.

Then she heard it.