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Chapter 11 - Chapter Eleven – Kendra’s Poison

Chapter Eleven – Kendra's Poison

Daniel hadn't called since leaving Zara's apartment. Hours stretched into a day, then two. Each unanswered text, each ignored call gnawed at her like acid.

By the third evening, she scrolled aimlessly through Instagram, her own smiling photos mocking her. There she was in designer gowns, toasting champagne, posing in borrowed luxury. A goddess online—while in reality, she was breaking apart.

Her phone chimed. A DM. From Kendra.

Kendra: Funny how Daniel's been quiet lately. Everything okay, bestie?

Zara's jaw tightened. She ignored it, but another message popped up almost instantly.

Kendra: I saw him at The Velvet Lounge last night. He looked… distracted. Guess even princes get bored of fairy tales.

Zara's chest tightened. Was Kendra lying? Or worse—was it true?

She typed furiously: Stay out of my relationship, Kendra.

Kendra's reply came with venom.

Kendra: Oh honey, relationships built on lies don't last. But don't worry—I'd never tell Daniel your little secrets. Unless, of course, I had a reason to.

Zara dropped the phone as though it burned. For the first time, she was certain: Kendra knew something. Maybe not everything, but enough to ruin her if she wanted.

Later that night, she sat in bed, staring at Daniel's unread messages. Every vibration of her phone made her flinch, expecting the blackmailer or Kendra to strike again.

But what cut deepest wasn't their threats—it was Daniel's silence.

Finally, close to midnight, her phone buzzed with a new message. She snatched it up, hope surging.

It wasn't Daniel.

Unknown Number: Four days left. Don't test me.

Her body shook. Between Kendra circling like a shark and the blackmailer's countdown, Zara felt her world shrinking, tightening, suffocating her.

She whispered into the darkness, tears slipping down her cheeks: "Please… don't take him away from me. He's all I have."

But deep down, she knew both Kendra and her faceless tormentor would use Daniel as their sharpest weapon.

And the war for her life—the expensive, fake life—had only just begun.

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