The soft sound of jazz music and the scent of old paper wrapped around me like an embrace as I settled into my usual corner of Rita's bookshop. This place was my sanctuary, a quiet escape from the chaos in my life. I traced my fingers over the worn wooden table, my gaze flickering to the small cup of coffee Rita had left for me earlier.
I sighed, unlocking my phone. I shouldn't have done it, but my curiosity—or maybe my self-destruction—got the better of me. I pulled up the news article.
"Madison Laurent and Billionaire Husband Celebrate Anniversary in Pure Elegance!"
My stomach twisted as I scrolled through the pictures. Madison glowed in a red silk dress, her smile dazzling, her hand wrapped around Julien's arm as if she belonged there. The comments below gushed over them.
"They're perfect together."
"Goals! True love exists!"
"She's so lucky. Julien Laurent is the definition of power and wealth."
I exhaled sharply, my fingers tightening around the phone. Perfect. Lucky. True love. The words stung me like open wounds.
Just as I was about to put my phone away, a notification popped up at the top of my screen again.
Madison Laurent posted a video.
My breath hitched.
I hesitated for only a second before clicking on it. The screen filled with a grand banquet hall, golden chandeliers illuminating warm light on the elegantly dressed guests. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the background.
And there they were—Madison and Julien, standing at the center, champagne flutes in hand.
Julien has an oval-shaped face with defined cheekbones and a straight nose. His eyes are a light brown or hazel, and his mouth is average-sized. He has short, jet black hair, styled in a slightly messy manner. His skin tone is light to medium. He has a visible tattoo on his neck. He has a slender but athletic build.
"To my beautiful wife," Julien said, his deep voice carrying over the crowd. "Happy anniversary, my love. And an early birthday surprise."
Madison's eyes sparkled. "What surprise?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement.
Julien smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I've prepared a little something for you," he said, his voice low and husky. "A token of my appreciation, a symbol of my love."
Madison's curiosity was piqued. "What is it?" she pressed, her eyes locked on Julien's.
He chuckled, clearly enjoying the suspense. "A ten-billion-dollar safe, just for you," he revealed, his words dripping with drama. "To be opened on your birthday, my love."
Madison's eyes widened in stunned silence, her mind reeling with the implications.
Julien's smirk grew wider, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "I want you to have everything you've ever dreamed of, Madison," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "And this is just the beginning."
The crowd gasped. A collective murmur of admiration swept through the guests.
Madison let out a squeal, wrapping her arms around him. "You're unbelievable," she breathed before sealing the moment with a slow, intimate kiss.
My chest tightened.
Ten billion dollars.
My mind spun with the reality of that number. Ten billion dollars would change everything. It would erase every moment of suffering I had endured, every tear, every night of hunger, every bitter fight with Evan. It would give me a fresh start. A new life. A chance to breathe.
I swallowed hard.
How different would my life have been if I had been the one standing beside Julien instead? If fate had chosen me instead of Madison?
A shadow suddenly fell across the table.
I looked up from my thoughts. Rita stood beside me with a warm smile and a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. The aroma swam into the air, enticing me with its rich scent.
With her eyes sparkling with a knowing glint, she said, "I figured you could use another one," she said, her voice low and soothing.
I forced a small smile, feeling a sense of gratitude towards her. Rita had a way of knowing exactly when I needed a pick-me-up, and her timing was impeccable.
"You know me too well," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I took the cup from her, feeling the warmth spread through my hands as I wrapped my fingers around it.
Rita's smile deepened. "That's what friends are for," she said, her voice filled with a quiet understanding.
We stood there for a moment, the only sound the quiet sound of the coffee machine in the background. Then, Rita sat down across from me, leaning her elbows on the table. "Rough night?"
I let out a dry laugh. "You could say that."
She studied me for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in my expression. "You always come here when something's on your mind," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of curiosity. "And from the way you're staring at that phone, I'd say it's something big."
I sighed, feeling a sense of resignation wash over me. I had been trying to avoid talking about it, but Rita knew me too well. She could always tell when something was bothering me.
I set my phone down on the table, trying to appear nonchalant. "It's nothing," I said, attempting to brush it off.
But Rita wasn't buying it. She raised an eyebrow, her eyes sparkling with skepticism. "Don't try to fool me," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "I've known you long enough to recognize the signs. You're worried about something, and I want to know what it is."
I hesitated, feeling a sense of unease. I wasn't sure if I was ready to talk about it, but Rita's concerned expression made me feel like I owed her an explanation.
"It's really nothing. Believe me." I tried again.
Rita arched a brow. "Liar."
I shook my head, but the warmth in her voice comforted me.
She was right. I did always come here when I needed to escape. Rita had owned this bookshop for as long as I could remember. It was small, tucked between a bakery and a florist, but it felt more like home than anywhere else.
"If you ever need anything," Rita said gently, "you know where to find me."
Something in my chest tightened at her kindness. "Thanks, Rita."
She gave me a small pat on the hand before heading back to her counter.
I leaned back in my chair, exhaustion settling inside of me. My thoughts drifted, the soft atmosphere of the bookshop drifting me into sleep.
Before I knew it, I fell into a deep slumber…
The buzz sound of my phone jolted me awake.
I blinked, my heart hammering. The bookshop was darker now, the sun having slipped lower in the sky.
I glanced at the screen.
Unknown Number.
My stomach twisted.
Something in my gut told me to ignore it. But my fingers moved on their own, swiping to answer.
"Hello?"
Silence.
Then—
"Penelope."
I froze.
The voice was unmistakable.
Madison.
The moment Madison's voice faded and the call cut off, a sick sense of horror settled in my chest. My pulse pounded in my ears. I stared blankly at the screen, my eyes fixed on the blank display as if willing it to come back to life.
My mind racing, I hoped against hope that the phone would ring again, that Madison's voice would come back on the line and tell me this was just another one of her cruel games. I was all too familiar with her vile pranks, the way she took pleasure in toying with my emotions and watching me tremble in fear.
But as the silence stretched, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. This didn't feel like one of Madison's usual pranks. The fear in her voice had been real. And now, she was gone.
I swallowed hard, my fingers trembling as I quickly pulled up my phone's tracking app. Madison had never been careful with her online presence —one thing she had never imagined was someone like me needing to find her.
A few seconds later, the location popped up.
California Dream Hotel.
Only a few minutes away.
I didn't waste another second. I grabbed my bag, muttering a rushed goodbye to Rita as I bolted out of the bookshop. The streets were bustling, but I moved through the crowd as if I they were blind to me.
Madison had sounded terrified. And, that call she placed. It was rare for her to pick up her phone and think to call me.
Actually, despite everything—despite the years of cruelty, the lies, the betrayal—I couldn't just sit back and do nothing. She was my sister. Maybe she had spent most of her life pretending I didn't exist, but I couldn't ignore her when she needed me. Maybe she had left mom to die of bone marrow cancer despite being a perfect donor and still refusing to donate. Maybe she had refused to help settle mom's hospital bill despite being married to one of the richest businessmen in the world. She was still my sister.
I hailed a cab, my hands shaking as I climbed inside.
"California Dream Hotel." I told the driver, my voice tight.
The ride was short, but every second stretched made me uncomfortable, thoughts racing through my head.
Madison. The sister who had tormented me all my life.
She had made high school hell for me, leading the pack of girls who mocked my weight, my clothes, my existence. She had laughed when they locked me in the janitor's closet for hours, had spread rumors that made my bullying even get worse.
And when she married Julien—the one person I had ever truly loved—she had made sure I felt that loss in the most brutal way possible.
She hadn't invited me to the wedding. Hadn't even acknowledged my existence in her perfect little world.
Every interview, she would always say she was an only child to a late parent. And, one time the paparazzi had caught her with me, she had introduced me to them as a fan who needed financial assistant.
But none of that mattered now.
I just needed to get to her.
The moment the cab pulled up to the California Dream Hotel, I threw a few bills at the driver and rushed out.
The hotel was the kind that screamed luxury—crystal chandeliers brightened in the grand lobby, gold accents on every space, rich velvet framing tall windows. But I didn't have time to take any of it in.
I stormed up to the front desk, my breath small.
"I need to know which room Madison Laurent is in."
The receptionist, a young woman with red lips and a polished smile, froze for the briefest second. It was so subtle that I almost missed it, but there it was—a flash of anxiety.
She quickly masked her shock, her professional charisma slipping back into place. Her expression smoothed, and her voice took on a polite but firm tone. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we can't give out guest information. It's our hotel's policy to protect our guests' privacy."
I felt a rush of frustration and slammed my hands onto the desk, making her jump. "I just spoke to her," I emphasized, my voice rising. "She's in danger. Please, you have to help me."
The receptionist's eyes widened slightly, and she glanced around the lobby nervously, as if hoping to find support or an escape route. But her expression remained hard. "I apologize, ma'am, but without the guest's explicit consent, we cannot disclose any information."
My anger and desperation began to increase, and I leaned in, my face inches from hers. "Listen to me," I urged, my voice low and urgent. "If you don't help me, something terrible might happen to her. Please, you have to believe me."
The receptionist's throat bobbed. She knows something.
A moment passed before she exhaled shakily, then, in a quiet voice, she said, "Room 210. Second floor."
I didn't thank her. I was already running.
The elevator felt too slow, so I took the stairs two at a time. The hallway on the floor of the room was strangely silent as I reached the second floor, my stomach churning as I searched for her room.
207… 208… 209…
210.
The door was left open.
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
I hesitated for half a second before pushing the door open.
And then—
I froze.
My mouth went dry, my body going hard rock as my eyes landed on her.
Madison lay sprawled on the floor, her blonde hair fanned out around her, her red silk dress which she had on in the video I watched earlier, spreading like blood beneath her.
Only—
There was real blood.
It stained across the marble floor, thick and dark, spilling from her nose and mouth.
I let out a sharp gasp, dropping to my knees beside her.
"Madison," I breathed, shaking her shoulders.
Her skin was ice-cold.
"Madison! Wake up!" My voice cracked with panic as I patted her cheek, but she didn't respond. Her face was so pale, her chest barely rising.
My heart pounded against my ribs.
Who did this? She was celebrating her anniversary just few hours ago, how did this happen?
I reached for my phone, my fingers fumbling to dial for help—
A sound.
A creak behind me.
I spun around, my breath hitching.
The door was still open. The hallway beyond was empty.
But someone had been here.
And I wasn't alone.