Chapter 7: Her World Ends

They say when a person loses everything, only then do they find out who they really are. I didn’t believe that. Not until today.

I woke to silence. My phone had died overnight, and I realized I hadn’t charged it—because I couldn’t bear to see what new humiliation waited for me in the morning. The windows were closed; the shades drawn. My apartment felt smaller than it ever had before.

Avery had stayed over. I was grateful for her presence, even in my half‑awake haze. But when I tried to get up, I noticed something was off.

My apartment door was locked from the outside.

I frowned. I pressed the door handle. Locked. The kind of lock that clicks and refuses entry. My key was inside the door.

I stood there, stunned. The only person besides me with a key was Ethan—or someone he’d authorized.

Someone who didn’t want me inside.

I pounded lightly. “Avery? You in there?”

Silence.

Then footsteps stirred behind the bedroom door. Avery appeared, hair disheveled, looking terrified. “Scarlett? What—?”

“The door’s locked from the outside,” I said, voice shaking. “They locked us out.”

She came over to help. She knocked. She jiggled the handle. But nothing changed.

“What about the spare key?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t think anyone has one except them now.”

I stared at the hallway around us—the corridor, the walls, the air. Everything felt alien.

Avery ran to the intercom panel and pressed “Lobby.” “Hello? This is apartment 23B. My roommate and I are locked out. Can someone let us in?”

The lobby was silent. No buzzing. The front door remained shut, the building unmoved.

She tapped the security camera feed on her phone—no help. No response from building management.

My heart pounded. “They’re locking me out of my own home.” The words tasted bitter.

We sat together on the foyer floor, leaning back against the closed door. My mind drifted to the worst possible scenario: that this was the first step of erasure. The first move in disconnecting me from everything I’d ever had.

“I’ll call Miles,” Avery said, pulling out her phone. “He’ll know how to get around this.”

I nodded numbly.

While she called, I looked around the entrance. Framed photos of me with Ethan, old artwork I’d picked, the throw blanket by the window—everything inside felt like it belonged to someone else now.

My phone buzzed. I answered.

“Miles?” I said hoarsely.

“Scarlett,” he answered, voice calm but urgent. “What’s going on?”

“They locked us out.” I gestured to the door. “We can’t get in. Also—” I swallowed, voice catching “—I can’t access the Evans accounts. My bank. My credit. My emails. I’m locked out everywhere.”

There was a pause. “Stay right there. Don’t move. I’m on my way. I’ll fix this.”

I didn’t feel like anything could be fixed.

Avery hung up. She looked at me, face pale. “He’s coming.”

We sat there until we heard distant footsteps. A key turned in the lock. The door opened. Miles stood there, phone in hand, eyes locked on me.

He stepped aside to let us in. “Come in. Close the door.”

I stepped past him, my legs numb. Avery followed. The deadbolt clicked.

Inside, the air felt stale. I moved slowly toward my desk. My computer was on—but logged out. My email client had been forcibly signed off. My credit cards, in their usual spot, were gone. My wallets were empty. Even some of my jewelry—the less flashy pieces I kept in a drawer—were missing.

I sank into the chair, fear and shock and anger twisting inside me. “They did this,” I said, voice small. “They’re trying to erase me.”

Miles stood behind me, shoulders tense. “I’m running trace. They’ve revoked your permissions. The Evans family or someone with access force‑transferred everything. You’re scrubbed from accounts, bank ledgers, inherited funds—basically declared dead in their system.”

I swallowed sharply. “Dead.”

He nodded. “For them, you no longer exist. For others, you're still here. But in every ledger, every ledger they control—you’ve been erased.”

Avery placed a hand on my shoulder. “They’re trying to strip you of every anchor you have.”

I closed my eyes. Every anchor: my money, my home, my name, my identity—they were all slipping through my fingers.

I stood abruptly. My legs ached from standing too long. “Where do we go from here?”

Miles cleared his throat. “We rebuild. We take legal routes, forensic audits, public exposure. We find a way to anchor your name outside their control. But first—we secure you.”

“Secure me,” I whispered, as though the word had weight.

He nodded. “We move fast. I’m going to swing by your safe deposit—see if there’s something in there they didn’t touch. But first, we change locks, secure communications, shift your digital presence to independent servers—your own domain.”

Avery exhaled. “We’ll treat this like a breakup, but one with stakes far higher.”

I rubbed my temples. “I feel like I’ve never been more alone.”

“You’re not,” Miles said firmly. “I’m here. Avery’s here. We’ve got a hell of a team behind you.”

I let the words settle. The apartment —my so called “safe place”—didn’t feel safe anymore. But I would make it safe. I would make it mine again.

I wandered to the window, looking out at the skyline. The city stretched before me, indifferent. But I would use it. I would move through it. I would reclaim it, one step at a time.

I turned back. My eyes were sharp. The fragile girl from before had cracked. Cracks become fault lines. Fault lines become earthquakes.

“Let’s begin,” I said softly.