Chapter 10

The night air was sharper than it had been two weeks ago, biting through Jennie’s thin silk blouse.

The moment she stepped into the dimly lit bar, the atmosphere shifted. The low hum of chatter died instantly, replaced by a brittle, frozen silence. People looked away, their eyes darting to their drinks. They knew. They knew what had happened fourteen days ago, but they were smart enough to keep their mouths shut.

Jennie scanned the room. There were no flashing bulbs, no paparazzi, no whispers. The few people who had dared to post about her "accident" on social media two weeks ago had been dealt with. Some were facing ten years in prison; others, four. The Vilonia name had scrubbed the internet clean of her shame.

Maintaining her composure was a struggle, but she walked in as if she still owned the city. She spotted Anita, a friend who worked in the administrative wing of the Vilonia offices, waving from a corner booth.

Jennie pasted a practiced smile on her lips and slid into the seat next to her.

"Hey, Queen," Anita whispered, leaning in.

Jennie let out a long, shaky sigh. "It’s good to finally be out." She looked around the booth. "Where’s Tiffy? We were supposed to be a trio tonight."

Anita took a long, slow sip of her drink, pointedly avoiding Jennie’s gaze.

"I’m talking to you, Anita," Jennie snapped, her voice trembling with a mix of authority and nerves.

Anita finally looked up, her eyes landing—just for a second—on the jagged, red scars peeking out from beneath Jennie’s cuffs.

"She said... she’s scared, Jen," Anita admitted quietly.

Jennie flinched. She quickly yanked her sleeves down, hiding the physical evidence of her failed plot. For the hundredth time that day, a wave of insecurity washed over her. She felt exposed, broken.

"I’m so sorry you had to go through that," Anita added, reaching out to pat Jennie’s arm. "That bitch Anna deserves to die for what she did to you. You were just looking out for the twins."

"She’s going to regret ever crossing me," Jennie hissed, gesturing for the bartender to bring her a double shot of tequila. "I’ll turn them against her. It’s only a matter of time."

"You should see how she carries herself in the office lately," Anita said, rolling her eyes. "She hasn't officially resumed yet—I think she’s back in a few days—but the rumors are everywhere. She stays late every night because Eden stays late. She’s acting like she’s the one wearing the Vilonia ring."

Jennie’s neck snapped toward Anita so fast it practically cracked. "What?"

"Yeah. She claims she’s just 'working,' but please. We all know what happens in those high-rise offices after dark," Anita said.

Jennie was fuming. Her grip on her glass tightened until her knuckles turned white. "I don’t believe it. Eden wouldn't touch her."

"You should believe it. Because it’s the truth."

The voice came from the seat directly to Jennie’s left. Jennie turned to see a girl who had just sat down, looking like she’d been through a war of her own.

"Who are you, and how would you know?" Jennie demanded.

The girl took a shot, her eyes cold and hollow. "He brought her home the very first night she worked there. That’s how fast she moves. She’s a professional."

"No wonder they were so close at the office, even though she isn't even his assistant," Anita added, fueling the fire.

Jennie squinted at the girl. There was something familiar about her—something in the way she held herself, like a wounded animal looking for someone to bite. Then, it clicked.

"I want to destroy her," Jennie said, the words tasting like venom.

"I want to ruin her entire life," the girl replied, slamming her empty glass onto the bar.

"I’m loving this energy," Anita chirped, looking between the two of them. "She needs to pay for the damage she caused."

Jennie reached out her hand, her sleeve riding up just enough to show the scar again. But this time, she didn't hide it. She used it as a badge of war.

"Let’s have a proper introduction," Jennie said, her eyes burning with a new purpose. "I'm Jennie."

The girl looked at Jennie’s hand, then at the scarred wrist. A dark, knowing smirk spread across her face as she took the hand and squeezed it.

"I'm Rita."

They shared a look that needed no explanation. They were two women cast aside by the Vilonia obsession, and they both knew exactly what had to be done.

Anna Hale had to go. And this time, they wouldn't stop until there was nothing left of her to save.