The cab smelled like stale coffee and air freshener.
Emma Hart sat in the backseat, her phone clutched in her trembling hands. The screen was bright in the darkness of the cab, illuminating her pale face. Her thumb hovered over the play button for the fifth time.
She pressed it.
The video started again.
Maya's voice filled the cab, breathless and teasing. "Oh, babe... faster... harder... I like it..."
Emma's stomach turned.
She watched Maya's fingers dig into Derek's back. She watched Derek's face twist with pleasure. She watched them move together like they had done this a hundred times before.
Because they had.
"Hmm, yes... right there..." Maya moaned. "Don't stop... please don't stop..."
Emma's vision blurred with tears she refused to let fall.
Derek's voice joined Maya's, low and husky. "You're so beautiful... so perfect... why didn't I do this sooner?"
Why didn't I do this sooner.
Emma replayed that line in her head. Why didn't I do this sooner.
Because Derek had been with her for three years. Three years of "I love you" and "you're the one" and "I'll never leave you."
He had kissed her goodbye this morning.
Now he was inside her best friend.
The video continued. Maya laughed — a light, musical sound that had once made Emma smile. Now it felt like acid dripping into an open wound.
"Faster, Derek... I want to hear you..."
"Oh god, Maya... I'm..."
The video ended.
Emma stared at the black screen. Her chest heaved. Her hands shook so badly she almost dropped her phone.
She pressed play again.
"Oh, babe... faster... harder... I like it..."
The words echoed in the cab.
The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror. He was a middle-aged man with tired eyes and a gray beard. He had probably seen everything in this city. But a woman crying in his backseat at 2 AM was still a sad sight.
"Miss?" he asked. "Are you okay?"
Emma didn't answer.
She was watching Maya's face. The smug smile. The triumphant eyes.
"Miss?"
Emma looked up. Her reflection stared back at her — hollow eyes, pale skin, cracked lips.
"I asked if you're okay," the driver said.
Emma forced a smile. It didn't reach her eyes.
"Oh, I'm fine," she said. Her voice was light, almost cheerful. "I'm just watching a video of my silly best friend and boyfriend."
The driver blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You know," Emma said, her smile widening, "just a video of my boyfriend sleeping with my best friend. The usual, right?"
The driver stared at her.
Emma laughed. It came out broken, hysterical, nothing like the composed actress the world knew.
"Don't worry," she said. "I'm fine. I hope you understand?"
The driver didn't answer. He just turned back to the road and pressed the gas a little harder.
Emma looked down at her phone.
The video was still paused on Maya's face.
She pressed play again.
"Oh, babe... faster... harder... I like it..."
She watched it again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, she felt something inside her break a little more. Each time, she expected the pain to numb. Each time, it got worse.
"Why?" she whispered to the screen. "Why would you do this to me?"
The video didn't answer.
Maya's face just smiled back at her.
---
The cab pulled up to the Grand Royale Hotel at 2:47 AM.
Emma paid the driver with trembling hands. She tipped him too much. She didn't care.
She stepped out of the cab and looked up at the towering building.
The Grand Royale. The most exclusive hotel in the city. The kind of place where celebrities hid from the press and politicians conducted secret affairs.
Derek had told her he was here for a "business meeting."
Business.
Emma laughed bitterly.
She walked through the revolving doors. The lobby was empty at this hour — just a tired receptionist and a security guard who barely glanced at her.
She didn't stop at the front desk.
She had a key card.
Derek had given it to her months ago, pressing it into her palm with that charming smile. "For emergencies, babe. You're always welcome."
Emergency.
Emma's fingers tightened around the card as she stepped into the elevator.
The doors slid shut.
She watched the numbers climb. 5... 10... 15... 20.
Room 1208.
The elevator dinged.
Emma stepped out into the corridor. Her heels clicked against the marble floor. The hallway was eerily quiet. The kind of silence that screamed secrets.
She stopped in front of Room 1208.
The door was solid wood. Expensive. Impressive. The kind of door that hid everything inside.
Emma pressed her ear against it.
Silence.
Then — a laugh.
Maya's laugh.
Emma's heart stopped.
She slid the key card into the lock.
Click.
The door opened.
The room was dimly lit. Candles flickered on the nightstand — vanilla-scented, the same ones Maya always bought. Empty champagne bottles. Expensive lingerie scattered on the floor. The bed was a mess of tangled sheets.
And in the middle of it all — Maya and Derek.
Maya saw her first.
Instead of guilt, her face twisted into a smirk. Her perfectly manicured fingers traced Derek's chest lazily, like she had all the time in the world.
"Oh, look," Maya said. "The fallen princess arrived."
Derek scrambled to cover himself. "Emma! Wait! I can explain—"
"Explain what?" Emma's voice came out cold. Steady. Nothing like the shattered woman inside. "Explain how you're sleeping with my best friend? Explain how you sent me a video of it?"
Maya laughed. "I sent it. He didn't know."
Emma's fists clenched.
"You're so pathetic, Emma." Maya's eyes glittered with cruelty. "Your family's bankrupt. Your career is dead. Your father is going to lose everything. And you really thought someone like Derek would stay with you out of love?"
Derek reached for Emma's arm. "Emma, listen to me—"
She slapped his hand away.
"Don't touch me."
Maya got out of bed. She walked toward Emma slowly, like a predator cornering its prey. Her naked body was unashamed. Her smile was victorious.
"Face it, Emma," Maya purred. "You're nothing. The only reason anyone even remembers your name is because of your father's money — and now that's gone. So why would anyone stay?"
She shoved Emma hard against the doorframe.
Emma stumbled. Her shoulder slammed into the wood. Pain shot through her arm like fire. Her phone — the same phone she had been watching the video on — fell and cracked on the floor.
Maya laughed. "Oops. Did I break your only friend?"
Emma pushed herself upright.
She looked at Derek. Her boyfriend of three years. The man she had loved. The man she had trusted.
He wouldn't meet her eyes.
She looked at Maya. Her best friend. Her confidant. The woman who had held her hand through every failure.
Maya was still smiling.
Emma felt something inside her break.
But she refused to cry. Not here. Not in front of them.
She turned and walked out.
---
The hotel corridor was empty. Dimly lit. The carpet was plush beneath her feet, muffling her footsteps.
Emma didn't know where she was going. She didn't care. Her vision was blurred with unshed tears. Her shoulder throbbed. Her heart was shattered into pieces so small she didn't think it could ever be whole again.
She stumbled forward blindly.
And crashed straight into a man.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled. Her voice cracked. The tears she had been holding back threatened to spill.
"It's alright."
His voice was deep. Controlled. Warm in a way that made her want to cry even more.
He steadied her with firm hands. His grip was gentle but strong. She looked up briefly — tall, impossibly tall, with a sharp jawline and piercing gray-blue eyes. A suit that cost more than her rent. The kind of presence that made people stop and stare.
But Emma didn't care.
She just wanted to disappear.
She pulled away and stumbled toward the elevator.
She didn't see him freeze.
She didn't see his eyes widen.
She didn't hear the sharp intake of breath.
Because she had brushed her hair back behind her ear.
And he saw it.
The red crescent moon birthmark.
---
The elevator doors slid shut.
Emma leaned against the cold metal wall and finally let the tears fall.
She cried silently. Her shoulders shook. Her hands covered her face. She didn't care who saw her. She didn't care about anything anymore.
She had nothing left.
No career. No family fortune. No boyfriend. No best friend.
Just a broken heart and a cracked phone.
The elevator reached the lobby.
Emma wiped her tears and stepped out.
She walked through the lobby like a ghost. The receptionist didn't look up. The security guard didn't stop her.
She pushed open the revolving doors and stepped into the cold night air.
---
Nathan Cole stood in the corridor, frozen.
His heart pounded in his chest. His hands trembled. Twenty years. Twenty years of searching. Twenty years of wondering if she was alive, if she was happy, if she ever thought about the crying boy she had saved.
And now he had found her.
But she was broken.
Broken and humiliated and running away from a hotel room at 3 AM.
"Sir?"
His assistant, Ryan Brooks, appeared beside him. Ryan was young, sharp, and fiercely loyal. He had learned to read his boss's silences.
"Are you alright?" Ryan asked.
Nathan didn't answer.
His eyes followed Emma's retreating figure until she disappeared into the elevator. The doors slid shut. She was gone.
But he had found her.
"Find out everything about her," Nathan said quietly. "Name, family, career, what just happened here. I want a full report by morning."
Ryan blinked. "Everything?"
"Everything."
Ryan didn't ask questions. He pulled out his phone and started typing.
Nathan stood in the empty corridor, his heart pounding.
Twenty years.
Twenty years of searching. Twenty years of wondering.
Now he knew.
She was Emma Hart. A struggling actress. A broken woman.
And she didn't remember him.
But that was okay.
He had waited twenty years to find her.
He could wait a little longer.
Because Nathan Cole had one condition.
She didn't know it yet.
But she would soon.
To be continued...