Chapter 3

That afternoon, I went to a copy shop to print my visa paperwork, bundled up in a hat and mask.

The place was crowded, so I squeezed into a corner to wait. Two young women nearby were chatting about the latest gossip online, not bothering to keep their voices down.

"Did you see? That perfume student…"

"With the mistress mother? Yeah. Gross."

"A friend of mine knows her and sent me her picture. She looks exactly like you'd expect, a total homewrecker face."

"Let me see!"

I tugged the brim of my hat lower.

When my prints were done, I turned to leave, but one of the women stared at me for a beat too long. She pulled up the comparison photo and held it in front of my face. "Are you Willa Sherwood?"

I didn't answer and picked up my pace toward the door. They followed me out, phones raised and recording.

"I got her! That's her! That's the one!"

People on the sidewalk stopped to look. One pulled out a phone, then another, then more. The phones closed in around me like a wall, every screen pointed at my face.

In the chaos, someone knocked my hat off. I threw my hand up to cover my face.

"Come on, look up. You were all smiles in that video, weren't you?"

My bag got knocked to the ground, and my papers spilled everywhere. Someone bent down, picked up my passport, and flipped it open.

"Willa Sherwood. That's you, isn't it? The name's a match, so why are you running?"

The passport went up in the air, the photo page facing the crowd.

"Brave enough to be someone's mistress but too scared to own it?"

I stretched on my toes to grab it, but the guy dodged and held his arm higher, well out of my reach.

Someone shoved me from behind, and I slammed back-first into the wall, my shoulder blade cracking against the brick.

"That's enough." A voice cut through from outside the crowd. A hand reached past me from behind and plucked the passport out of the air above my head.

The guy who shoved me froze and turned around, but the newcomer had a good few inches on him, enough that the guy had to crane his neck to look up.

A man in a dark gray coat stood there among the gawkers. He handed the passport back to me, then swept a look over the circle of raised phones.

"Recording and distributing someone's personal information in a public space without their consent is a crime. You're all welcome to wait here for the police."

The crowd went still for a couple of seconds. Soon after, phones disappeared into pockets.

"Whatever. Let's go. It's not worth it."

The sidewalk emptied until it was just the two of us outside the shop. The man glanced down at me. "You alright?"

I shook my head, my throat too tight to get any words out.

"You should get out of here."

He didn't linger. He turned and walked away.

My eyes stung, and for the first time, I felt a shred of kindness from a complete stranger—even if to him, it was nothing more than a small detour in his day.

I gathered my things and started home, but the stares followed me the entire way. My phone buzzed with a notification about the trending news.

Silas had kept his word. Every piece of content about me had been pulled down.

But what difference did it make? The damage was already done, burned in too deep to undo. I couldn't pretend none of it happened.

Before I could lock my phone, two men walking past me stopped and doubled back.

"Hey, aren't you the one from online?"

I ignored them, shoved my phone into my pocket, and stepped backward.

One of them leaned in to get a better look at my face and let out a laugh. "It is her. She looks just like the picture.

"Are you here alone? Want us to keep you company?"

I backed toward the street, watching them carefully. The guy's grin widened. "Relax. Aren't you supposed to be good with men?"

My breathing went ragged. One hand slipped into my pocket, and I quietly unlocked my phone, ready to call the police.

But two against one wasn't a fight I could win. One of them grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me toward him. I screamed and hit at him with everything I had.

The pain didn't last long. I heard a heavy thud, and then the hand let go. The man dropped to his knees in front of me.

"Are you looking to die?"

I jerked my head up. It was Silas.

He stood there radiating barely contained fury, his eyes ice-cold. One hand had a grip on the first guy's arm, while the other was clenched in the second guy's hair.

"We're sorry! We're sorry! It was just a joke!"

The two of them scrambled to their feet and bolted.

"Willa." Silas frowned and started to move toward me.

I took a step back, widening the distance between us. When he reached for my hair, I jerked away. "Don't touch me!"

The outburst startled him. "What's so bad about letting me protect you?"