Athen stared at the message for a long time, her throat tightening.
She knew calling Lizzy had been a bad idea, but in that moment, she hadn't known what else to do. Lizzy was her only friend, had been her only friend. The harshness in that text wasn't cruelty, it was fear. Athen knew it. If Lizzy took her in and anyone found out, she'd be dragged down too.
Still, knowing that didn't make it hurt any less. The one person she thought she could count on had chosen survival over friendship and Athen couldn't even blame her for it.
After a minute of just standing there, staring blankly at her phone, Athen finally moved. She wiped her face roughly, forcing herself to pull it together. There was no time to cry. She grabbed her suitcase from under the bed and went straight to the closet.
There wasn't much to pack. Half the clothes hanging there weren't even hers, they belonged to the company. She picked out what little she owned: a few shirts, two pairs of jeans, a jacket, and some old stage outfits she'd bought herself. Her shoes were only four pairs, two sneakers, one pair of heels, and worn-out boots.
She folded everything neatly, not because she cared about order but because she needed something to focus on, something that wasn't her life falling apart. When she zipped up the suitcase, the sound echoed through the quiet room, final and heavy. It hit her then, she was really leaving.
Being in a world without someone she could count on was too painful at that moment.
Her eyes landed on the bag from last night, tossed carelessly beside the couch. She reached for it, hoping she still had some cash left, enough for a cab fare at least. When she opened it, her fingers brushed against something stiff. A card.
She frowned, pulling it out slowly. Her head still throbbed faintly from everything that had happened, and her memory was a blur. There was a card from last night, right? Or was it two? She couldn't remember clearly.
"Oh, my brain…" she muttered, squinting at the glossy black card in her hand. The name written in gold caught her attention first—Malachi Reign. Beneath it, the words Phoenix Industries gleamed, elegant and powerful, followed by a single phone number printed with precision.
Her mouth went dry. "Wait, Phoenix Industries?" she whispered to herself. That was one of the biggest corporations in the country. Then it hit her, the secretary's words echoing in her head: 'Miss, you got it wrong. He's not a producer.'
Who didn't know Phoenix Industries or Malachi Reign? The number one Global Finance industry, there was no where one would go and not find a branch or a mall or just anything under Phoenix industries. Malachi's face was never made public.
She froze, the realization slamming into her like a truck. "No way…"
Athen sank onto the couch, gripping her head. If that man wasn't Producer Jones, then, oh God! she had cursed out and lectured the CEO of Phoenix Industries.
Her body stiffened. Then came the wave of panic. "Aaaah!" she screamed, smacking her forehead repeatedly with her palm. "I messed up on my own!"
She dropped her head back against the couch and groaned. Out of all people in that city, she just had to offend a man powerful enough to end her life with a single word.
She picked up the card, turning it between her fingers, then reached for her phone lying beside her suitcase. Her thumb hovered over the screen for a while as doubt crept in. Calling them felt risky, stupid even, but what choice did she have?
She hadn't planned to call anyone, not after the disaster that was last night. But she needed help, and that secretary, had told her to reach out If she wanted to settle things. The word "settle" kept ringing in her head. Settle meant money, right? Maybe they wanted to compensate her for the humiliation she'd gone through. Or at least, that's what she hoped.
Besides, they did have a part in her misfortune. If that cold, unreadable man, Malachi Reign, had just corrected her the first time she called him "Producer," none of this would've happened. She wouldn't have gotten dragged into that mess. She wouldn't have been blacklisted, homeless, and jobless overnight.
She sighed deeply, staring at the golden letters on the card again. Phoenix Industries. The name alone screamed power. Athen bit her lip. "If they think I'm walking away quietly, they're wrong," she muttered.
Taking a deep breath, she opened her phone's dial pad and entered the number, her pulse quickening with every tap.
After making up her mind, Athen grabbed her phone and dialed the number on the card. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest as the line connected almost immediately. There was no greeting, no sound, just silence on the other end.
She frowned. "Hello?" Still nothing. Her irritation began to rise. Wasn't this the secretary's number? "I'm Athen—Athen Lang," she said quickly, then paused. A thought hit her. Oh, right. They probably didn't even know her name. She corrected herself, "This is the girl from last night."
A deep, cold voice came through the line, sharp enough to make her straighten. "What do you want?"
Athen froze for a second. That wasn't the secretary's voice. That was him. The man from last night. That terrifying man! She had thought that the secretary would pick up the phone, after all, he's the one who gave her the card.
Her throat felt dry. She opened her mouth but no words came out at first. "I—uh," she stammered, forcing herself to sound steady. "About what happened last night, your secretary told me to call if I wanted to settle things. I…" She trailed off, suddenly unsure how to explain herself.
The silence that followed was heavy, so heavy she could hear her own breathing. This wasn't going as she had imagined. Never in her life had she ever felt that intimidated through a phone call.
No one spoke from the other end for a full minute. The silence dragged so long that Athen pulled the phone away to check if the call had disconnected. It hadn't. She pressed it back to her ear. "Hello? Hello!" she said louder this time, her voice a mix of impatience and unease.
Then a deep, unbothered voice came through, calm but sharp enough to slice the air. "So, you want money. How much do you want?"
Athen blinked, momentarily speechless. That tone, cold, detached, almost mocking, hit her harder than she expected. The question alone taunted her pride, made her feel small, like some beggar asking for scraps.
Her jaw tightened, her first instinct to snap back, to tell him she wasn't that kind of woman. But reason stopped her. She needed help. Not attitude.
"I–I…" she started, but the words tangled in her throat.
The voice came again, firmer this time, leaving no room for hesitation. "Name your price."
Athen gripped her phone tighter. For a moment, she wanted to hang up, to keep what was left of her dignity. But she couldn't afford pride right now, not when she was about to lose everything.
But she had had enough. "Stop rushing me!" she snapped, pacing the small room with her phone clutched tight. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be in this mess!"
The line went silent again. Not even a breath. Was he mocking her now? Listening and enjoying her struggle?
Her pulse quickened, frustration bubbling up with every second of that cold, quiet response. "My price?" she scoffed, the words coming out half-choked, half-angry. "Give me a place. I've been kicked out of my apartment, and I don't have anywhere to go."
She paused, her voice softening despite herself. "I don't need your money. Just… give me a house."