AURORA'S POV:
I woke up in the guest room, light filtering through the curtains long after dawn had passed.
The air was unnaturally still, weighing heavy on my chest.
I didn't reach for my phone.
Didn't check the time. I just... stayed there, body curled into the pillow, mind spinning. He had left quietly. Again.
I forced myself up eventually, knees shaking, footsteps soft as i moved into the kitchen.
He sat at the table by the window, papers spread before him: printed emails, frame screenshots, sticky notes.
His laptop open with spreadsheets, highlights, and blurred faces.
He didn't look up when i walked in.
I leaned on the counter so thin with fear it felt like glass.
"How are you feeling?" he finally asked quietly.
"I... okay," I answered, even though I could feel a lump rising in my throat.
He pointed to a mug. "Tea?"
I nodded. Took it.
The warmth felt foreign in my hands.
After a long silence, I asked: "You found something?"
He sipped. "We have a tentative ID on the woman in the video."
My breath caught.
I pulled the steam toward me, starred at the swirling circles in the mug, imagined them turning into blurred silhouettes.
He showed me two images side by side: a press photo of a brunette actress, and a grainy frame from the stairwell camera. The jawline, the statur, they matched.
I recognized her.
Selena.
The one i called friend.
The one who took my movie role. The one who took my endorsements.
He paused. "She appears in multiple cameras that night: stairwell, bar entrance, then hallway. Timestamped across the entire timeline."
My hands shook. I placed the mug down.
He watched me.
"You knew her," I whispered. "But do you really know her?"
He didn't answer immediately.
My mind wandered back to our last meeting, the smile, the polite expression, pretending to still care about me, about my wellbeing.
Then the press photos announcing Selena as the next big thing.
I swallowed.
"That's why it felt off," I said, voice low. "Because... she was always present everywhere you looked—events, endorsements, contracts. She moved into my space quickly."
He leaned forward. "You're not overreacting. Your instinct is valid."
I shut my eyes.
One clear truth echoed across my mind:
She framed me.
For the rest of the morning, I watched Lance work. His focus was sharp, methodical, unwavering.
He compared logs, coordinated with Nico, pinned down guest attendance lists, reviewed text logs and security footage.
And all the while, a growing betrayal throbbed inside me.
A slow-burning fire.
Because this wasn't just about truth anymore.
It was about justice.
And redemption.
We decided to pause and regroup around noon.
I offered to rest but he insisted: "You came too far."
We drove to BGC again not the rooftop this time, but the building lobby. A confrontation waiting.
The plan was to secure permission for forensic review of security footage.
I didn't know what to expect.
But i needed to look at that staircase again, that elevator footage, anything that might help piece together the timeline of that evening.
When the guard recognized Lance from the investigation, the doors opened.
We were allowed to review the footage in a small conference room.
He fed the clip on the screen: a man and woman entering the stairwell from the bar entrance. Entering the rooftop level. Then only the man exiting the elevator, alone.
I watched him leave. I watched her linger.
The timestamp: exactly one minute after Aurora said she remembered blacking out.
I swallowed.
He typed out an email to Valencia again, attaching the new timestamp, referring to discrepancies in statements, requesting expedited subpoenas.
As we left the building, the afternoon sun felt harsh.
But i didn't feel anything.
Except hollow defeat.
The ride home was silent.
I gripped the door handle until my knuckles whitened. But i said nothing.
Back at the condo, we prepared for what awaited.
I closed my bedroom door quietly, though he didn't need to follow.
His presence felt necessary anyway.
He left me there, pacing.
I thought about Selena.
About how she'd offered me comfort, said we were still friends.
I realized that maybe i never knew her at all.
It was early evening when Lance knocked on the bedroom door.
"I've arranged for a statement tomorrow," he said quietly. "We'll show them the exact timestamp. We'll ask Aurora-specific questions about her last memory."
I nodded.
He hesitated, then placed two pieces of paper on the bed.
"The statements you're giving tomorrow... they need to be precise," he said softly.
I looked at him.
"Promise me you'll say exactly what you remember. Nothing more. Nothing less."
I nodded again.
That night, I barely slept.
But there was something else now.
Not fear.
Determination.