"Elly!"
Vivian's scream – sharp, shocked, yet thick with satisfaction – shattered the apartment's humid silence like cheap crystal. It wasn't just surprise; it was a barbed hook, tearing into Elara and dragging her deeper into the nightmare.
Elara locked rigid in the doorway, Vivian's access code – that poisonous token of trust – searing like acid through her mind. Before her sprawled a grotesque tableau: champagne bottles discarded like casualties, glinting dully on the floor. Vivian, clad only in Julian's gaping white shirt, writhed on top of him on the violated sofa. Panic contorted her face, but beneath it, triumph blazed in her widened eyes. Julian, ripped from his lustful stupor, looked gut-punched. Colour haemorrhaged from his face, leaving it bloodless. He hurled Vivian off with violent terror, hands shaking uncontrollably as they clawed at his trousers.
Elara didn't flinch. She absorbed it all – the obscene disarray, the choking reek of sex and souring champagne, the brutal ugliness of their betrayal. She watched them thrash. The instinct to run was smothered, crushed beneath the horror's weight. There was nowhere to run that this wouldn't follow
"Elly, I'm so sorry! God, please!" Vivian scrambled forward, the oversized shirt gaping obscenely, tears already streaking her face in perfect tracks. Her voice hitched with practiced sobs. "I don't know how… it just happened…"
Elara recoiled before Vivian's tear-slicked hand could brush her skin. Her voice emerged low, hollow, scraping like dead leaves over concrete. "When?" Her frozen gaze sliced past Vivian to Julian, frantically wrestling his jacket over bare skin, his face a mask of horror and mute pleading. He opened his mouth—nothing came out. What words could possibly matter now?
Vivian wiped her nose, the gesture performative. "…His birthday. Six months. Alex's place… they drank too much…" She choked on another sob. "He thought I was you…"
Six months. The words detonated in the hollow pit of Elara's chest. A cold, brittle laugh clawed its way up her throat. What was I doing? The memory surfaced, razor-sharp. "I had a fever," she stated, flat and final, pinning Julian with her stare. "Home alone. Because you said," her voice fractured, just for a second, " the night was dead without me. So you went home to sleep." She watched agony haemorrhage across his face, knuckles bleaching white.
"Stop! Elly, please!" Julian's voice shattered, raw with desperation. "My fault! All of it! Punish me! Just—"
"First time: a drunken mistake?"Elara cut him off, her voice gaining a lethal, brittle edge. "What about the second? Third? Every. Single. Time?" A bitter, mirthless smile touched her lips. "You only 'tripped' into her twice in six months? Did you lose your sight every fucking night?" The sarcasm dripped like acid.
Julian flinched as if whipped, silenced by the naked contempt burning in her red-rimmed eyes.
"Elly, please!" Vivian surged forward, a masterpiece of abject remorse. "Don't blame him! It's me! I'm trash, Weak! I seduced him! He never wanted this!" Tears streamed, but beneath them, Elara caught it – the subtle tightening of Vivian's jaw, the flicker of dark satisfaction in her eyes.
The slap cracked through the room like a gunshot. Vivian's head snapped sideways, a vicious red handprint blazing on her cheekbone.
"You are trash!" Elara hissed, palm stinging. " You knew he was mine! My boyfriend! And you—" She choked. "My best friend?" The word was poison. Disgust choked her, thick as the reek of souring champagne. Vivian's renewed sobs grated like broken glass.
With violent trembling, Elara clawed at the bracelet – Vivian's sickening 'gift', that badge of her own stupidity. She ripped it off, hurled it. It struck Vivian's collarbone, clattering to the floor with a pathetic tink. "You gave me this to savour my blindness! Called me here to toast your lies in your den? Did it thrill you? Watching me cheer your filth?"
Pain tore through her – a physical rending. Six months. Secret touches. Stolen moments, while they smiled to her face. Julian, the devoted act. Vivian, the caring friend. And her? The blind, trusting idiot drowning in guilt over the incident while they fucked relentlessly behind her back. The sheer, grotesque audacity of it buckled her knees. A ragged sob tore free, hot tears finally spilling. She jerked her head away, scrubbing furiously at her face.
"Elly, don't… please…" Julian begged, voice thick. He lunged, grabbing her retreating hand, crushing it against his damp cheek. "Hit me! Break me! Just don't pull away!"
His touch – the heat, the familiar texture – ignited a flashbulb memory: those same hands, minutes ago, roaming over Vivian's skin, his face twisted with desire for her.
"GET OFF ME!" Elara wrenched her hand free as if burned. "You're disgusting!" The image, combined with the phantom feel of him, hit like a physical blow. Her stomach heaved, bile scorching her throat.
"Vom—!"
Julian froze, horror-struck, as Elara doubled over, retching violently onto the expensive rug at his feet. The sour stench of bile clashed grotesquely with the lingering champagne and Vivian's cloying perfume. Behind Julian, Vivian watched – a tiny, triumphant smirk twisting her lips before she forced her face back into a mask of concern.
Gasping, Elara straightened. With icy precision, she ripped Julian's cashmere scarf from her neck and dropped it onto the mess like a soiled rag. Then, she plunged a hand into her bag, yanking out the velvet ring box. The hinge snapped open with a sharp click, revealing the dazzling solitaire inside – the future Julian had promised, now pulverised.
She plucked it out, holding it aloft between thumb and forefinger. Cold fire sparked from the diamond. Her glacial gaze speared Julian. "My skin's been all over this. Still think it's precious?"
The ring seemed to sear his vision. The memory of her radiant joy when he'd slid it onto her finger hours ago was a brutal counterpoint to the devastation before him. "It… it was yours…" he choked, the word engagement ash in his mouth.
Elara's eyes flicked to Vivian, catching the raw, covetous hunger blazing in them at the sight of the ring – her ring, engraved with her name. A million-dollar symbol, now worthless slag.
"You clearly prefer my things to yours," Elara's voice dripped venom. She flicked the ring at Vivian's chest. "Go on. Take it."
Vivian's breath caught. Jealousy was a physical ache. She craved it – the value, the trophy. But she wanted her own ring, her own name carved by Julian's hand. "Elly," she whispered, tears welling on cue, "please… I know you want to hurt me, but must you be so vicious?"
A harsh, hollow laugh ripped from Elara's throat – sharp with contempt. Her fingers opened.
Clink.
The diamond landed squarely in the centre of the vomit puddle, the brilliant stone instantly smeared and soiled.
"That," Elara stated, her voice arctic, "is how you insult trash." She lifted her chin, a queen condemning thieves. "What I throw away rots where it falls." Her frozen eyes locked onto Vivian's. "Want your trophy? Get on your knees and fish it from the filth you helped make."
Vivian's remorseful mask finally shattered. Pure, venomous hatred contorted her beautiful face for one unguarded moment before she wrestled it under control. Nails bit deep into her palms.
Satisfied by the crack in Vivian's facade, Elara turned her glacial stare back to Julian, frozen as he stared at the ring in the filth. "Know why I came tonight?" Her voice was eerily calm.
Julian slowly dragged his devastated gaze to hers.
"Ask her," Elara nodded minutely towards Vivian, a bitter ghost of a smile touching her lips that never reached her dead eyes. "Maybe she gets off on an audience for her little dramas."
Understanding – cold, furious, and absolute – detonated in Julian's mind. His head snapped towards Vivian, eyes blazing with murderous rage. She did this. She engineered this carnage. The truth screamed inside him.
Elara had no interest in their venomous collapse. She drew a deep, shuddering breath; the air tasted like decay. "Julian." Her voice was flat, final. "We're done." She held his horrified stare. "Remember: I ended us. I don't want you."
The finality hit him like a sledgehammer. His chest locked. Before he could gasp, could move, Elara was already turning, her steps unnervingly steady as she walked towards the door.
"ELARA! WAIT!" Julian lunged, panic shredding his voice.
He reached the threshold just as Vivian's nails dug like talons into his arm. Her voice, loud, sharp, and perfectly projected, sliced through the apartment, aimed like a dagger at the retreating figure:
"JULIAN, DON'T! I'M PREGNANT! YOUR BABY!"
The words struck Elara's back like bullets. A fresh, searing agony ripped through the numbness. A bitter, broken smile touched her lips. Of course. The final, grotesque twist. She didn't falter. Didn't look back. The elevator doors slid shut, sealing her inside a cold, silent tomb.
The steel walls closed in. The furious strength that had carried her evaporated. Elara slid down the cold metal, collapsing into a tight ball in the corner. Silent, violent tremors wracked her body. Behind her eyelids, the images flashed like a hellish slideshow: Julian and Vivian tangled, the soiled ring glinting in filth, Vivian's triumphant-panicked face screaming pregnant. The air in the elevator felt thin, poisoned. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream. Could only shake.
The biting night air slapped Elara's face as she stumbled from the building's lobby. She walked blindly, numb, city lights smearing into streaks of meaningless colour. Direction didn't matter - only movement, only putting concrete between herself and the suffocating betrayal rotting in that apartment.
Across the street, Ethan leaned against the sleek hood of a black sedan, taking a final drag of his cigarette. The ember flared, briefly illuminating sharp features in the darkness. He exhaled smoke into the frigid wind, watching the fragile figure emerge. Right on schedule. Silas's orders echoed: Ensure she's safe. Report. He flicked the cigarette into the gutter, slid into the driver's seat, and brought the engine to life with a predatory purr. He allowed her one block of solitude - a grim courtesy for her unraveling - before gliding the car alongside her.
The passenger window descended silently. "Miss Hayes," his voice poured through the opening like dark honey, laced with familiar amusement. "What remarkably poor timing for a midnight stroll. Do you make this a habit?"
The jarringly casual words pierced Elara's shock. She halted mid-step, turning slowly. Red-raw eyes fixed on him with unnerving intensity, reflecting streetlight like shattered glass.
Ethan raised an eyebrow, that ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "That stare could freeze hell. Finally noticed my devastating charm?"
Elara ignored the bait. Her voice emerged flat, deadly calm, cutting through his performance: "He sent you to follow me." No question. Absolute certainty.
A low chuckle escaped him, devoid of warmth. "Full marks, detective. Sharp as the night we met."
One coincidence was possible. Two? On this night? The numbness burned away, replaced by glacial purpose. Her marble-pale face hardened. "Take me to him." The command vibrated with suppressed fury. "Take me to Silas. Now."