Page 174 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

"She lives in Hollow City."

"So?"

"So?"

His tiny painted hands flew into the air.

"Seraphina, Hollow City is an entirely different ecosystem. Billionaires. Celebrities. People who own three yachts but still complain about taxes. Their behavioural metrics don't align with ours."

"Ours?"

"The valley."

Frank stretched dramatically.

"I've always wanted to meet rich psychopaths."

Gerald slowly turned toward him.

"Why?"

"They're usually better dressed."

I bit back a laugh.

"Hollow City can't be that bad."

Gerald stared at me.

"It literally has a higher population of private security than public librarians."

Frank nodded thoughtfully.

"That's actually a wonderful statistic."

"They're all pretending,"

Gerald continued.

"Perfect streets. Perfect smiles. Perfect little charity galas."

"Exactly,"

Frank interrupted.

"Which means whatever's underneath has to be spectacular."

I looked back down at Persephone's message.

Somehow… I thought he might be right. My thumb hovered over the reply button, excitement bubbling somewhere beneath my ribs.

Maybe making friends as an adult wasn't impossible after all, maybe everyone else had simply been looking in the wrong places, maybe the secret wasn't finding someone normal and maybe the secret was finding someone who had already stopped pretending to be.

Hollow City wasn't built.

It was curated.

Every inch of it looked as though someone had spent decades polishing reality until it became expensive enough to photograph. The moment my old sedan rolled off the interstate and crossed beneath the wrought-iron welcome arch, the world shifted so violently it almost felt theatrical, as though I'd accidentally driven onto the wrong movie set.