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Onika
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I don't remember any of my drive home.

I should have gone back to work. The fundraising event needs to be locked down, and I should be asking for details on the other inquiries we've had. But I can't. My brain won't focus, and I find myself parking in my spot at my run-down apartment building instead. When I realize where I am, I call Tiffany and tell her I'm not feeling well. It isn't a lie, by any means, and not just because I puked my guys up at Megan's.

I refuse to believe there's only one way out of this that doesn't end with everyone I love dying. But any way I look at it, life as I know it, is over.

"After a few months, they disappear. Like they never existed to begin with."

Fenty can't make me disappear. I have people who would notice and then scream bloody murder if the cops didn't look hard enough. I'm not some random girl from a foreign country, or like Beyoncé with no family left to keep the case alive after the police shelve it.

When I open my door and climb out, a BMW pulls to a stop along the curb across the street.

Is it following me? Or is it just another random nice car, and my mind is playing tricks on me? Either way, the fact that I can't see through the black-tinted windows puts me on edge. I hoist my bag onto my shoulder and lock my car door.

My keys jangle in my shaking hand as I walk with uneven steps toward the front entrance. When I let myself inside, I glance over my shoulder at the car, but no one gets out and the window doesn't open.

Ignore it. It's nothing. And regardless, from the way Megan described things, Rihanna would have no reason to have me followed if she already knows everything about me.

That knowledge makes me feel stripped bare, even though I'm fully clothed.

Unless they're watching see if I'm going to run.

I make my unsteady way up the stairs to the third floor apartment I leased the day I met with the lawyer and planned to file for divorce. My townhouse, the one Meek moved into the day we got married, is a rental and the lease is about to lapse. I planned to renew it. At least until...I push the memories of that day from my mind and focus on getting inside. I could have picked a nicer place to crash-land after my divorce, but I already planned to cut my salary to the bone to keep up with the distillery debt.

My parents sold their place when they moved to Florida, so that wasn't an option. When they flew home for Meek's funeral, Dad was pissed when he learned I planned to move into what he called a shithole, but I made up some excuse about it being closer to work and not needing so much space anymore as the reason for letting the lease lapse.

I couldn't admit that I didn't think I could afford to pay myself enough to stay in the townhouse or find a better apartment. I wasn't about to admit how badly we were struggling.

Knowing my dad, he would have insisted on coming out of retirement to take over, but that was the last thing I wanted him to do. Not just  because I wanted to be the one at the helm, but because I feared he'd have a heart attack when he realized the damage Meek had done and how close Seven Sinners teeters on the edge of failure.

All my parents knew was that Meek had cheated, I was leaving him, and then he died in a tragic accident before I could file for divorce. As a compromise, I let Dad install two new dead bolts on my shifty apartment door. That was three months ago, and everything since is a blur.

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