6 A Desperate Call in the Night
My phone wouldn’t stop ringing. The moment I stepped into my apartment, it vibrated again with Vera’s name flashing across the screen. I considered ignoring it, but knew she’d just keep calling until I answered.
“Hazel! What the actual hell happened? Are you okay?” Her voice exploded through the speaker without waiting for my greeting.
I sank onto my couch, suddenly feeling the weight of the day crushing down on me. “It’s a long story.
“I’ve been watching video clips for the past hour! Your father hitting you on stage? Ivy collapsing? The internet is going crazy!” Vera’s words tumbled out in a rush of anger and concern. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have come right away!”
“I just needed some time alone,” I said, rubbing my temples. “Everything happened so fast.”
“That bastard hit you in front of everyone.” Her voice hardened. “I swear I’m going to destroy him. My family’s lawyers-”
“No,” I cut her off. “It’s actually perfect. Let everyone see what kind of man Harold Shaw really
is.”
Vera went quiet for a moment. “There’s already talk about Evening Gala. People are speculating about how this will affect the brand.”
My stomach dropped. In all the chaos, I hadn’t considered the professional fallout. The fashion industry thrived on gossip, and this scandal was prime material.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
“Mixed. Some people are supporting you. Others are… well, you know how this industry works.”
I did know. A designer’s reputation was everything. “I need to make a statement before this spirals further.”
“Already ahead of you,” said Vera. “I’ve been messaging everyone I know to keep the narrative straight. You’re the victim here, Hazel. Don’t let them twist this.”
“Thanks.” My eyes burned with tears I refused to shed. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’d manage. You’re the strongest person I know.” Her voice softened. “But seriously, I can come over right now.”
I glanced at the clock. Nearly midnight. “No need. I just want to sleep and forget this day ever happened.”
My call–waiting beeped. Three more friends trying to reach me.
16:27
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16 A Desperate Call in the Night
“I should go,” I told Vera. “I need to respond to a few people before I crash.”
“Call me tomorrow, first thing,” she insisted. “And Hazel? This isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning of something new.”
After hanging up, I spent the next hour fielding calls and messages. Everyone wanted details, offered support, or simply checked if I was okay. By the time I finished, my emotional reserves were completely drained.
With shaking hands, I composed a brief social media post:
*Thank you everyone for your concern. I’m taking some time to process recent events and will address questions when I’m ready. For now, please respect my privacy.*
I turned off my phone and tossed it aside.
My apartment felt too quiet, too empty. The silence magnified my thoughts until they screamed inside my head. Images from the wedding reception kept replaying–Alistair’s face as he carried Ivy, my father’s rage, the stunned expressions of the guests.
I wandered into my bathroom and stared at my reflection. The woman looking back seemed like a stranger–hollow–cyed, pale, with a faint redness still marking her cheek.
The medicine cabinet contained the sleeping pills my doctor had prescribed after my mother died, when depression had made sleep impossible. I hadn’t needed them in years, but tonight I took two without hesitation.
“Harold Shaw is dead to me,” I whispered to my reflection, watching as my eyes hardened with resolve. “And so is his daughter”
I crawled into bed, waiting for the medication to numb my mind. As darkness pulled me under, I clutched Sebastian Sinclair’s handkerchief in my fist, its silk a strange comfort against my skin.
Hours later, a piercing alarm jerked me awake. Disoriented and groggy, I struggled to understand what was happening. My home security system was blaring, and from somewhere downstairs came the agitated squawking of my pet parrot, Ginger.
“What the hell?” I mumbled, my tongue thick from the sleeping pills.
I stumbled out of bed, nearly falling as my knees buckled. The clock read 3:17 AM. The security panel by my bedroom door showed that someone was at the main entrance to my building.
Ginger’s squawking grew more frantic. She only made that noise when someone was persistently at the door.
I dragged myself downstairs, one hand against the wall to steady myself. Through the fog of medication, alarm bells rang in my mind. Who would come here in the middle of the night?
At my front door, I pressed the intercom button with a trembling finger.
16:27
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16 A Desperate Call in the Night
“Hello?” My voice came out raspy and weak.
“Hazel Shaw! Your phone is off, you’re not answering the door, don’t you know someone’s life is on the line!” A frantic, desperate voice shouted through the speaker.
I blinked, trying to clear my head as adrenaline fought against the sedatives in my system. The voice continued, urgent and demanding, as I struggled to understand what new crisis had found me in the darkness of night.
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