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The phone slipped out of her grip as a loud ringing filled her ears, booming over all the other sounds in the room. Stumbling back, she stared sightlessly at the phone, her breaths coming in ragged bursts.
No.
She could feel the hands at her neck closing in, suppressing the screams until they echoed shrilly inside her mind.
Please–help!
The phone vibrated again, but she couldn’t move. Her hands were trembling so hard. Another vibration came, and she could not ignore it any longer. With mounting dread, Ana inched forward until she stood over the discarded phone, picking it up with an unsteady grasp.
Unknown: This is what happens.
Unknown: When you stir up trouble.
Chapter 18
Time was suspended, with her in its grip, floating somewhere between pain and bone-deep numbness. What hour it was, what day it was, she did not know. All she could see was the sun peeking through the windows, revealing the room in disarray.
Her laptop was still open on her desk, along with her work files. Her phone was flat on the floor.
After receiving nearly 200 texts last night, Ana had quickly turned it off. That screenshot had spread like wildfire. Everyone was reaching out, asking if she was okay, if Gio was investigating its source…and ever so slyly asking if it was true.
Bloody leeches.
Even Emma had messaged her, asking if something had happened. She was one of the few who hadn’t received that screenshot, likely because she was an outsider. But when Ana had feigned illness and skipped the remainder of the meetings, some of the customers had started peppering Emma with questions about it.
God.
Her business could be ruined.
Her privacy, her marriage…her sanity.
The past was so much easier to bear when it was veiled in silence, confined to a place only she could see. Now, with so many people nosing around, she couldn’t suppress the memories so well anymore. They spilled out in all their sordid glory.
Ana brushed her matted hair aside, her movements limp. She still wore the same professional dress from yesterday. Her face and hair were sticky from dried sweat and tears. But she couldn’t remember any of it. Almost a day had passed, and she had no recollection of anything since she’d seen that text.
Even the sharp knock on her door barely registered.
Click.
“Ana…?”
She said nothing, staring ahead at the sparrow on a tree branch. Its feathers fluttered and then smoothed as it settled into its spot, observing its surroundings contently.
“You didn’t touch your dinner,” Auntie admonished.
Dully, Ana realized there was a covered tray atop her desk. When had that arrived?
“The housekeeper said you were asleep when she dropped it off. Did you just wake up?”
She had no idea. It felt like she'd been awake for days.
As Auntie approached the bed, Ana wondered if the older woman was also having déjà vu. She had discovered Ana in a similar state over a year ago, catatonic and dazed–in the very scene that had spurred this entire scandal.
Auntie’s reaction then had been stern and decisive. Today, however, there was an oddly gentle expression on her thin face. Almost…sad.
That couldn’t be right. Her aunt was never emotional. She should be lecturing Ana on decorum and image. But instead, she stood silent as she stared out the window.
“I’m sorry. This can’t be easy.”
