The Amber Drink On The White Plate Left Untouched As The Hand Gripped My Wrist...

Sunlight cut through the cracks in my blinds, casting sharp, dusty lines across the worn wooden floorboards of my living room. I hadn't slept. Every creak of the old building, every distant siren wailing down the avenue, had pulled me back to the sharp edge of panic. My cell phone, resting face-down on the nightstand, buzzed at 7:15 AM.

I didn't want to touch it, but the vibration persisted, rhythmic and demanding. When I finally flipped it over, the screen lit up with three missed calls and a string of text messages from an unblocked number.

*Liam: You think you can humiliate me and walk away? Call me before I come up there.*

*Liam: Open the door, Khloe. I know you're inside.*

My breath hitched. I padded silently across the room and peered through the peephole of my front door. The hallway was empty, smelling faintly of old floor wax and stale coffee, but the threat hung in the air like smoke. He knew where I lived. He had always known, even when I thought I had erased every trace of our past life together.

By noon, the tension broke in the worst possible way. A sharp, rhythmic banging echoed against my front door, followed by a muffled shout.

"Khloe! I know you're in there! Open up right now!" Liam's voice was muffled by the heavy wood, but the sheer malice behind it was unmistakable.

Panic surged, hot and blinding. I backed away from the door, my eyes darting around the small apartment as if looking for a hidden exit. There wasn't one. I was trapped on the third floor with a man who viewed me as his property, unwilling to accept that his grip had been broken.

My hand trembled as I reached into my coat pocket hanging by the door and pulled out Victor Russo's black business card. The silver lettering caught the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway. I didn't have a choice anymore. The illusion of safety I had built for myself over the past year had shattered the moment Liam grabbed my wrist across that dinner table.

I grabbed my phone, punched the ten-digit number into the keypad, and pressed it to my ear. It rang twice before a deep, calm voice answered on the other end.

"Speak," Victor said, the background silent except for the low hum of an engine.

"It's Khloe Hayes," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "You gave me your card last night. You said..." I swallowed hard, fighting the lump in my throat. "I need to take you up on it."

There was a brief pause on the line, the sound of a turn signal clicking rhythmically in the background.

"Meet me at the corner of 4th and Grand in twenty minutes," Victor replied evenly. "The corner booth at the back of the Silver Leaf Lounge. Come alone."

The line went dead before I could answer. I dropped the phone into my pocket, grabbed my jacket, and stared at the door as another heavy pound rattled the frame. Taking a deep, ragged breath, I unlocked the window leading to the alley fire escape and slipped out into the cold autumn air.