Rhea POV
I got off the bus at the very next stop.
There was no need going downtown anymore. No books. No therapy-in-the-form-of-fictional-rich-men. My life had officially spiraled past the point of distraction.
And just to prove—once again—that the universe had a personal vendetta against me, my phone rang.
I froze.
For one terrifying second, I thought maybe it was Lucy calling to scream that her mother had found out everything and we were officially homeless.
But no.
The name flashing on my screen was far worse.
Mr. Quinn Cortez.
My demon boss.
The man who made hell look like a vacation spot.
Thank God—that I hadn't put my phone in the bag with my Rowan face. If I had, not only would my identity have been stolen, but my last lifeline too. And missing his call? That was basically a resignation letter written in blood.
I quickly looked around, spotted a quiet corner near a closed kiosk, and answered the call.
