Valentina
Right back at ya! I’ll talk to you later!
“She wanted to come over, but I told her it’s fine,” Emily informed her sister who was waiting on another update.
“Wait, why? We could’ve had a girl’s night.”
“She’s been overwhelmed recently again by the terms of her contract. I don’t want to pile anything else on her.”
Chelsea’s expression tightened. “She hasn’t gotten lawyers involved? What her agency did was predatory.”
“I know,” Emily said with a sigh. “Sheknows. She’s tried to fight it, but they say she’s locked into their representation, even after mediation. It’s either she stays with them or stop all activities until the term’s up. They won’t let her do anything tied to her acting career unless it’s through them.”
“That’s brutal,” Chelsea muttered. “Valentina lives for the spotlight. She actually enjoys being famous. This must feel like hell for her. It’s basically an ultimatum.”
“Tell me about it.”
Emily got up and carried her mug into the kitchen.
As she placed it into the dishwasher the doorbell rang.
“I ordered some packages. Can you get them?” Emily yelledfrom where she was.
Chelsea materialized immediately. “Are any of them Hermès? Ooh, maybe that Moynat bag I suggested to you?”
Emily gave her a defeated look because she was spot on—she’d ordered both.
Squealing, Chelsea rushed to get them.
In a blink, she made it back to the living room where Emily was seated again.
“Is it the Russian Blue Moynat?” Chelsea tore into the box with eager hands. “I told you it’s rare to—” A bone-chilling scream left her. The package slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a thud.
“What?” Emily panicked, rushing to her side, knocking off her bed slippers in the process. “What is it?”
She looked down at the mess on the floor.
Was that…was that a dead rat?
It had a putrid smell coming from it.
Emily’s eyes narrowed to see a photo of herself from the charity gala the other night, her face slashed through with a red substance that looked like blood.
Her stomach dropped.
Chelsea pulled her to the side. “No, don’t look at it. Don’t touch it either. I’m calling the police.”
Ten minutes later, the police arrived. Emily sat stiffly at her coffee table. She gave her statement to the two officers, voice strong even though her hands trembled. Chelsea’s own covered them as she sat beside her.
The male officer’s tone was procedural. “Unfortunately, under New York’s stalking statutes, we need more evidence. That means more than a single anonymous package. Without fingerprints, a return address, or repeated contact, there’s nothing we can act on.”
Chelsea’s chair scraped like nails on a chalkboard as she stood. “So someone can send her threats like this and you’lldo nothing? She’s being terrorized and you’re hiding behind formalities?”
“I understand your frustration, but the statute requires intentandidentity. Right now, we don’t have either to move forward.”
“What kind of bull?—"
“It’s fine,” Emily touched Chelsea’s arm, trying to calm her down though her stomach curdled. The photo’s crimson streaks burned in her memory. Someone was out to get her. It brought back sickening memories. Memories she tried to get over, but it seemed she never would in this lifetime.
