The photographs lay across her lap like shattered glass—each one a cut, each one a scream.
Elena's breath came in shallow bursts. Her fingers trembled as she stared at the bruised wrist, the terrified face of the woman clutched by Dominic. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She couldn't look away.
The woman's name was "Marissa Dane".
She knew it. Everyone in the city did.
Three years ago, Marissa was the rising star of the fashion world. Gorgeous, fearless, and connected. Then she vanished. Her body was found in a hotel bathtub two weeks later. Official cause of death: accidental overdose.
But the media whispered darker things.
Abuse. Control. A powerful man with secrets and lawyers to erase them.
And now here she was, looking at proof.
Dominic had known her. Had hurt her.
"He could kill me," Elena realized. And no one would question it. If he could do this to the famous and gorgeous Marissa, how much more would he do to me... maybe the news or the police wouldn't even have anything to say this time. I would be forgotten, my name would be erased, my body would be disposed off, and finally my shopped designer dresses would then be burnt to ashes.... These words her inner self muttered to her, while she was clenched to fear.
She hid the photos under her mattress. Every instinct screamed at her to run. But there was nowhere to go. Dominic had closed every exit just to make sure she didn't leave. No money. No phone. No friends. Her name was entangled with his like ivy strangling a building.
She needed to be smart. Careful. If he even suspected she had seen the photos, the consequences would be…
Unthinkable.
That night, she barely ate.
Dominic sat across from her at the long dining table, sipping wine, utterly composed. He spoke about an upcoming gala at the Blackwell Foundation. Expected donors. Key partnerships.
She heard none of it.
Her eyes flicked to his hands.
Had they strangled someone? She taught to herself whilst her skin crawled.
"You're quiet tonight," he said.
"I'm tired."
He studied her. Long. Deep. Like he could see into her bones.
"Lying doesn't suit you, Elena. What are you up to this time."
Her stomach turned.
"I'm not—"
"Don't," he said gently. "If something is wrong, you tell me. Or I'll find out anyway."
The threat was casual. Coated in velvet.
She nodded, forcing a weak smile. "I'm fine."
But she wasn't.
Thinking of his words mixed as though they were of vanilla and vinegar, she tried to combine the harshly used tone to the sweetly said words..." If something is wrong, you tell me..."
Later, locked in her room, she was broken.
The girl in the mirror was pale and haunted. The glamour—the designer dresses, the makeup, the cameras—had all been armored over a decaying core. She could pretend to be Dominic's prize. His perfect puppet.
But inside, she was unraveling.
And then… her phone buzzed.
The burner. The one Dominic didn't know she had.
A message from an unknown number:
"You're not alone Elena. Meet me. Midnight. Bridgeport Station. Burn this phone after."
Elena's heart nearly stopped.
Was it a trap?
Or salvation?
She stared at the clock. 11:07 PM.
She made her choice.
At 11:50 PM, Elena slipped out of the service elevator, her hoodie pulled over her head. A car took her to Bridgeport Station. Every shadow felt like eyes. Every footstep echoed too loudly. Her heart kept racing like she was going to see a ghost.
She reached the platform.
Everywhere seemed empty.
Except for a woman leaning against a pillar in dark clothes, her face mostly hidden.
"You came," the woman said, stepping forward.
"I don't know who you are," Elena said. " How you got my contact or why you sent those photos."
"My name is Lena Dawes". I was Marissa Dane's roommate. I've been trying to expose him for years...
Elena's heart pounded. "Why now?"
"Because you're the first one who got close enough. You're the first one he put on a leash."
Elena flinched.
"Dominic is dangerous," Lena continued. "He's not just controlling. He breaks people. I have more evidence. Messages. Medical reports. You need to get out."
"I can't," Elena whispered. "He controls everything."
"Then we could take it from him. Together."
But just as Lena reached into her coat pocket to bring something that seemed like convincing evidence, they both noticed something.
A flash of movement.
A camera.
'Click'.
Both women turned.
A man in a hoodie bolted from the stairwell, disappearing into the darkness.
"Sh\t!" Lena hissed. "He followed us, that son of a b¡tch"
"We have to go—" Elena started, but sirens wailed in the distance.
Sooner lights covered everywhere.
The Cops.
Someone had called them.
They scattered in opposite directions.
Elena returned to the penthouse, drenched in sweat, shaking. She burned the phone in the bathroom sink, her heart hammering with fear.
She had taken a step outside the cage.
But now… the cage will get smaller.
Trying to sleep became so hard for her. The memories of everything that happened within that short moment came haunting her deranged brain.
She hugged her pillow so tight, looking at the wall clock as it made its way past every second till it was almost dawn.
The next morning, Dominic stood in the hallway holding her 'real' phone.
The one she thought she'd hidden perfectly.
"Lost something?" he asked, this time his voice seemed mild.
Elena's blood turned to ice. Her bones became weaker, as though she had been pushed from a height.
"How I wish the floor could open up and let me through" she thought to herself, having meant every bit of it.
He stepped closer, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Her heart stopped a bit...
"I told you, little star…" he whispered.
"I always find out"