Audrey's POV
I'd just wrapped up a meeting when I saw her — Adel. Of all people to run into, it had to be her. The woman I hated most.
She was standing in the lobby of the Anderson Law Firm as if she belonged there, smiling that same fake, sugary smile she'd worn the day my life fell apart.
My chest tightened, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. "How dare you come here?" I said, my voice low, trembling with rage.
"Audrey, I just wanted to talk—"
Before she could finish, my palm connected with her cheek in a sharp crack that echoed through the room. Heads turned, whispers rippled. I didn't care.
"You think you can talk after what you did?" I hissed, every word slicing through the air. "You made me lose my baby. You cost me everything!"
Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to blink them away. "You walked away that night like nothing happened, while I spent days wishing I hadn't survived it!"
Adel stumbled back, clutching her face, trying to speak — "Audrey, it was all Jer.."
"Don't!" I shouted, cutting her off. "You'll pay for what you did. I'll make sure you do. You're going to jail, Adel. I promise you that."
Security stepped in, but I brushed past them, my pulse hammering so hard I could barely hear. My hands were shaking, with fury, with pain, with everything I'd buried for too long.
By the time I reached the parking lot, the anger had drained out of me, leaving only exhaustion.
I didn't want to go home. Didn't want to see the empty space that still haunted me.
So I told my driver, "Take me to the Vino Bar."
The place was dimly lit, quiet, just what I needed. I sat at the far end of the counter, ordered a whisky, and stared into the amber liquid as if it could swallow everything I felt.
Simon's face flashed in my mind — his voice, his smirk, his promise that he'd handle everything. The thought made my chest tighten again, but I shook it off.
"One glass," I whispered to myself, taking a slow sip. That was all I had.
One glass.
Suddenly, everything went blurry. The room spun, my legs felt heavy, and the air around me thickened. I must have been more exhausted—or more emotional—than I thought.
"Miss, let me help you," a man's voice said, steady but distant. "I don't know you. Let go of me," I murmured, trying to find my driver. I pushed against him, the strength leaving my arms as I stumbled away.
Somehow, I ended up in a hotel lobby. The lights were too bright, the floor too shiny. I tried to steady myself, reaching for the nearest door to balance—but it swung open beneath my hand.
A man stood inside. Barefoot, half-dressed, startled. For a moment, neither of us spoke.
My head swam, everything fuzzy at the edges. "I'm—sorry," I mumbled, pressing a hand to my temple. "I think I'm… not feeling well."
He stepped forward just enough to steady me before I fell. "You shouldn't be here. Are you drunk?"
His voice was calm, low, familiar somehow. The sound of it cut through the fog in my head.
I blinked hard, forcing myself to focus. "I just… had one glass," I said weakly.
He guided me to a chair near the window, keeping a careful distance. "Stay here," he said, reaching for the phone. "You need water ."
I closed my eyes, the last thing I remembered was the sound of his voice and the echo of my own promise, no more tears.
Then, darkness