The room blurs a little more each time.
The bass is so deep, it vibrates through my chest. The club’s exactly the kind of place Sally loves: thudding bass, neon lights smearing across dark walls, the air thick with the scent of bad decisions.
I stick to the edge, pressed against a pillar, vodka in hand, head spinning.
I’d spent weeks worrying that Knightwell might tell my new company about what happened. The day I got the job, the relief had been enough to push it all down — but now it claws its way back. Why now? Why them?
A man’s voice cuts through the thud of techno, too close to my ear. “You here alone, darling? Are you looking for some company?” I blink, turning to face him. He’s older, expensive suit, wedding ring. His mouth hovers near my cheek, close enough to touch.
I tilt my head away, stepping back, mumbling something, and push past him, weaving through the crowd toward the bathroom. I jostle through bodies and slip into the bathroom, locking myself inside a stall.
I thumb through my contacts. There’s only one person I need to speak to now.
Seb picks up on the second ring.
His face lights the screen, hoodie pulled up, controller still in hand, his room behind him glowing faint blue from his monitors.
“Violet?” His eyes narrow. “What’s up? Is that a bathroom?”
The bass from the club rumbles through the walls, thumping against the silence of his room. I sink back against the cool tiles, exhaling a breathy laugh.
“Apparently, I’m getting rat-arsed.”
He breaks into laughter; the sound filling my chest with warmth. His brow arches. “Anyone breakdancing yet?”
That drags a real laugh out of me, shaky and warm. “Not tonight.”
He squints at the screen, catching the wobble in my voice, the flush in my cheeks. “What’s going on? Why are you calling me when you should be getting rat-faced or whatever you said?” He grins.
I press the heel of my hand to my eye, but it doesn’t help. “I have to come back to New York, Seb. Knightwell’s lining up a deal with my new company. Then they’re going to find out what happened, and I’ll probably get fired...again.”
Seb looks away for a second, exhaling through his nose like he’s bracing for something. When he meets my eyes again, his tone is softer.
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
I stare at him, stomach lurching. “Why?”
“It was Millie,” he breathes out fast, as if the speed will soften the blow. “Everyone knows now. Chase made sure of it.” He runs his hand over his jaw.
The air leaves my lungs. I sit there, staring at the phone like it might tell me what to do next. My voice barely works. “It was Millie?”
“Yes, I just found out. I was trying to find the right time to tell you. Believe me, I was as shocked as you.”
“But why?”
“I guess only Millie can answer that.”
My throat constricts as a memory hits me like a heavy blow. How it was Millie I was supposed to meet when Elliot showed.How, like an idiot, I often let her use my laptop. The document they found hidden in my desk must have been her. She would easily have been able to hang around my desk without suspicion. We were friends, after all, or so I thought.
“Hey,” Seb says softly, his voice a reassuring anchor pulling me back. “You’re okay now, I promise.”
But the ache in my chest says otherwise.
“Millie?” I repeat, voice breaking. “You’re sure?”
Seb nods once. “They’ve got proof. It’s not on you, Vi. It never was.”
I sink my head into my hands, pulse thudding in my ears. Relief punches through me, but it’s tangled with something else. Hurt. Betrayal.
