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Two years ago, it all started differently.

Amelia was sitting in the same apartment in the same bedroom browsing the Only Fans website on her laptop.

Her friend Brooklyn had told her about the platform a month earlier.

Girls make money by selling photos.

Nothing criminal, nothing dangerous, just content for subscribers.

Amelia was working in a coffee shop at the time, her salary barely covering rent and food.

She had no savings.

The future looked bleak.

She took her first photos in the evening while Kaden was at work.

Nothing explicit, just beautiful pictures.

Lingerie, swimsuits, loungewear.

She uploaded them to the platform and set a subscription price.

The first money came in a week later.

It wasn’t much, but it was her money earned in an hour of work with the camera.

Caden found out 2 weeks later.

Amelia didn’t hide it.

She left her laptop open.

He saw her page on the site, the photos, the comments from subscribers.

[music] His reaction was predictable.

“What the hell is this?” Cadence stood in the middle of the room, his face stony.

“Are you selling your photos?” “It’s not what you think,” Amelia tried to explain calmly.

“They’re just photos.

People pay for a subscription.

I get money.

No contact, no meetings, just pictures on the internet.” “Just pictures?” Kaden raised his voice.

Amelia, you’re wearing underwear.

Men look at you and pay for it.

Don’t you understand how it looks? I understand, but I need the money.

We’re barely making ends meet.

You work 12 hours a day at the auto shop.

I stand behind the counter at the coffee shop.

So what? We still don’t have any money.

This is a chance to make a decent living.

They argued all evening.

Kaden demanded that she delete her account.

Amelia refused.

He said it was humiliating, that she was cheapening herself.

She replied that it was her body and her choice.

At some point, Kaden fell silent, sat down on the sofa, and lowered his head.

“Are they just photos?” he asked quietly.

“Do you promise nothing more? No meetings, no video calls, nothing like that.” “I promise just photos.

I just upload them to the site.

People subscribe.

That’s it.” Caden was silent for a long time, then nodded.

Okay, but if it goes further, if you start doing something else, I won’t be able to live with that.

Do you understand? I understand.

There won’t be anything else.

I promise.

She lied.

Not then, but later.

8 months ago.

The money from Only Fans came in regularly, but the amount grew slowly.

Amelia earned $300 or $400 a week.

Not bad for a side job, but not enough for real change.

Subscribers wrote private messages, offered to meet, named numbers.

Amelia refused automatically.

The promise she made to Kaden meant something until February until one of her subscribers offered her $1,000 for dinner.

Just dinner, conversation, company, no strings attached.

Amelia stared at the message for an hour.

$1,000 for two hours, a month’s salary at the coffee shop.
She agreed.

The meeting took place at an expensive restaurant in the city center.

The man was polite, a little nervous, a middle-aged businessman talking about work, about life.

Amelia drank wine and smiled.

After dinner, he suggested going up to his hotel room.

another 2,000.

Amelia knew what she was agreeing to.

She was afraid, but the thrill was stronger.

3,000 for one evening.

She returned home in the early hours of the morning.

The guilt came later, but at that moment she felt only relief.

The money lay in her purse, real, tangible.

After that evening, it became impossible to stop.

The second meeting, the third, the 10th.

Amelia created a separate phone number for clients, set rules, raised prices.

Money flowed like a river.

She put it aside in a separate account that Kaden didn’t know about.

Officially, she was still working at the coffee shop, still earning money on Only Fans.

Her boyfriend didn’t suspect a thing.

Brooklyn found out a month later.

The friends met at a bar.

Amelia had one too many and spilled the beans.

Brooklyn didn’t judge her or make a scene.

She just looked sad and said, “You know this is dangerous, right? Not just physically.

You’re losing yourself, Amelia.

I know what I’m doing.

You know what about Kaden? Are you ever going to tell him?” “No, he doesn’t need to know.

He’s the only real thing I have.” Brooklyn didn’t ask any more questions, but her gaze became heavy.

A month ago, Amelia noticed a rash.

At first, she ignored it.

Then, she got scared and went to the clinic.

The tests confirmed syphilis.

The doctor said it was treatable, prescribed antibiotics, and recommended abstaining from sexual contact.

Amelia listened and nodded.

One thought kept running through her head.

Clients.

How many had there been in the last month? 5 6 she had infected them all.

The right decision was to stop, get treatment, stop seeing clients, tell Caden.

Amelia thought about it for 3 days.

Then she looked at her bank balance.

$28,000.

Another year, and she would have saved enough to change her life, start her own business maybe, or just disappear, start over somewhere far away.

She continued her meetings.

Her clients didn’t know about her illness.

Amelia took her medication and hoped the treatment would work quickly.

Her conscience tormented her for the first week, then dulled.

The money compensated for the guilt.

Today’s meeting with Darius went as usual.

The apartment was on the 23rd floor with panoramic windows overlooking the city.

Darius was a generous client, paying more than the others.

3 hours, $25,000.

Afterwards, he poured himself a whiskey and sat down opposite Amelia.

“I want to offer you something,” he said.

“I like you more than the others.

You’re smart, beautiful, pleasant to talk to.

I can provide for you permanently.

Monthly payments, a better apartment, anything you want, but you’ll only see me.” Amelia took a sip of whiskey, buying time.

That’s a serious offer.

I’m a serious man.

Think about it.

Don’t rush your answer.

I’ll think about it.

She left 20 minutes later.

She checked her phone in the taxi.

A message from Kaden.

Want to hang out today? I miss you.

Amelia replied, “Sure.

At 8 at our cafe.” The cafe was a small place not far from their home, a cozy place where they had met on their first date.

Caden was already sitting at a table by the window when Amelia entered.

He smiled, stood up, and hugged her.

“How was your day?” he asked when they sat down.

“Fine, work stuff.

How about you?” “Busy, 12 cars per shift.

My hands are buzzing, but it’s okay.

Overtime pays well.” Caden took her hand.

You know, I’ve been thinking.

Maybe it’s time for us to move in together.

Get a bigger apartment, two rooms, a decent kitchen.

I’ve almost saved up for the down payment.

Amelia squeezed his fingers.

That’s great.

You work so hard for us.

For us, he repeated.

I want a normal life, a family, kids.

Maybe in a couple of years.

You want that too, right? Of course I do.

Lying came easily.

Amelia looked at Caden at his tired eyes, at his callous hands, and felt something break inside her.

He worked 12 hours a day, saved every penny, dreamed of the future, and she met with strange men for money, and infected them with disease.

He knew nothing.

He loved a girl who didn’t exist.

I love you, said Caden.

You know that, right? I know.

I love you, too.

It was true.

The only truth in her life.

They had dinner, talked about their plans, laughed at some silly thing.

Caden walked her home, kissed her goodbye, and drove away in his old car.

Amelia went up to her apartment, closed the door, and sank onto the sofa.

Her phone vibrated, a message from an unknown number.

You infected me.

You’ll pay for this.” Amelia stared at the screen until the letters blurred.

Her hands were shaking.

But that was only the beginning.

The next evening, Amelia was walking down the street to her house.

It was Thursday, early October, and the temperature had dropped below 10°.

She had just left the store where she had bought groceries for dinner.

The bag weighed heavily in her hand.

The street was almost empty with only a few passers by hurrying about their business.

The street lights were dim, some of them flickering.

The neighborhood wasn’t dangerous, but after dark, people preferred not to linger here.

Amelia thought about yesterday’s message.

You infected me.

You’ll pay for this.

She reread it all day.

She tried to remember the clients from the last month to guess who could have written it.

There were many faces.

Names were fading.

Most of the meetings took place in hotels quickly without unnecessary conversation.

One of them had found out about the disease.

Someone had decided to take revenge.

She turned onto her street, two more blocks to her house.

The sidewalk was poorly lit.

The trees cast long shadows.

Amelia quickened her pace.

Her phone was in her jacket pocket.

She had checked it 10 minutes ago.

There were no new messages.

Maybe the threat was empty.

Maybe the man just wanted to scare her.

A figure appeared from around the corner.

a middle-aged man in a dark jacket.

He was walking straight toward her.

Amelia tried to get around him, but he blocked her path.

He stood in front of her, blocking her way.

She looked up and looked at his face.

Recognition came a second later.

Matthew Carver, a client from about 3 weeks ago.

The meeting was at a hotel on the outskirts of town.

He introduced himself as a purchasing manager who worked for a construction company.

He talked about his wife, about problems in his marriage, about how long it had been since he had felt intimacy.

Amelia listened, nodded, did her job.

He seemed pleasant, quiet, a little sad.

He paid 1,500, thanked her, and left.

A normal meeting now.

He looked different.

His face was contorted, his eyes bloodshot.

His hands were clenched into fists.

He was breathing heavily as if he had been running.

“It’s you,” he said.

[music] His voice was trembling.

“I found you.” Amelia backed away, but he grabbed her arm.

“Do you remember me?” Matthew asked.

“3 weeks ago, the hotel on West Street.

Do you remember?” “I I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Don’t lie to me.” He pulled her toward him.

“You know what [music] you did? You infected me with this filth.” Amelia tried to break free, but his grip was iron.

I don’t understand what you’re talking about.

Let me go.

Syphilis, Matthew shouted so loudly that she flinched.

You infected me with syphilis, you [ __ ] I went to the doctor a week ago.

The test came back positive.

My wife found out.

She filed for divorce.

She took the kids.

Everything is ruined.

All because of you.

His face was inches from hers.

Amelia could smell the alcohol.

I’m sorry, she muttered.

I didn’t know.

You didn’t know? Matthew pushed her away and she almost fell.

You’re a [ __ ] You sleep with dozens of men.

You should have gotten tested.

You should have known.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folding knife.

The blade glinted in the light of the street lamp.

Amelia froze.

“You ruined my life,” Matthew said more quietly.

“My family is gone.

My career is in jeopardy.

Everything I’ve built over the last 20 years has come crashing down because of one night with you.

Please.

Amelia raised her hands.

I didn’t mean to.

It can be cured.

Antibiotics.

You think I care about a cure? He took a step forward.

My wife knows.

Everyone knows.

I’ll be fired when they find out at work.

I’ve become a laughing stock.

and it’s all because of you.

Matthew raised the knife.

I’ll kill you right here.

I’ll slit your throat like an animal.

You deserve it.

Amelia turned and ran.

Her survival instinct took over.

She ran down the sidewalk, dropping her grocery bag.

Her heart was pounding in her ears.

She could hear heavy footsteps behind her.

Matthew was chasing her.

“Stop!” he shouted.

“You can’t get away!” Amelia turned onto a side street.

It was a little brighter here, but there were no people either.

She screamed for help, but the windows of the houses were dark.

Either no one was home or no one wanted to get involved.

The footsteps behind her were getting closer.

Matthew was faster.

She ran another block, her lungs burning.

Amelia didn’t play sports and had no stamina.

Her legs began to buckle.

Matthew was 10 m behind her.

She could hear his breathing, his curses.

I’ll get you.

You’re going to die today.

Amelia turned into an alley, hoping to get away.

Mistake.

The alley was narrow, dark with only one exit.

She realized this when she reached the end and saw a brick wall.

Dead end.

She turned around.

Matthew was entering the alley, knife in hand.

“Nowhere to run,” he said.

“It’s over, bitch.” Amelia screamed with all her might.

long piercing screams.

She screamed until her throat gave out.

Matthew walked slowly toward her.

She pressed herself against the wall, searching for a way out with her eyes.

There was a fire escape on the right, but she couldn’t jump that far.

There were trash cans on the left, but they were useless.

Matthew was 3 m away.

Stop screaming.

No one’s coming.

There’s no one here.

Amelia grabbed the lid of a trash can and threw it at him.

Matthew knocked it away with his hand.

She tried to run around him, but he grabbed her jacket and pulled her back.

Amelia fell onto the asphalt.

The impact knocked the air out of her lungs.

Matthew loomed over her, knife raised.

A voice came from somewhere outside the alley.

Police, drop the knife.

Matthew froze.

He turned around.

At the mouth of the alley stood a uniformed police officer, his hand on his holster.

He was tall, large, about 30 years old.

He was walking toward them, his eyes on the knife, put the knife on the ground slowly.

Matthew looked at Amelia, then at the policeman.

A second to make a choice.

He turned and ran in the opposite direction toward the far end of the alley.

He jumped over a low fence and disappeared from view.

The policeman ran after him, but stopped at the fence.

He returned to Amelia.

Are you okay? He helped her up.

Did he hurt you? No.

Amelia was breathing heavily.

No, I’m not hurt.

Thank you.

[music] Thank you for coming.

I heard the screams while patrolling the next street.

What happened? Who was it? Amelia looked at the policeman.

A young man.

His name on his badge was Officer Tanner.

He waited for an answer.

She couldn’t tell him the truth.

She couldn’t explain why Matthew wanted to kill her.

That would mean revealing everything.

He’s an old acquaintance, she said.

He has problems.

Mental problems.

He’s been stalking me.

I didn’t know he could be dangerous.

Do you know his name? Matthew.

I don’t remember his last name.

We dated a long time ago, but not for long.

Then he started sending me strange messages.

Today, he attacked me.

Officer Tanner wrote in his notebook.

You need to file a report.

This is a serious assault.

He threatened you with a knife and tried to hurt you.

We’ll find him.

Okay, I’ll file a report.

Where do you live? I’ll drive you home.

They reached the patrol car.

Amelia sat in the back seat, still shaking.

Officer Tanner drove her through the empty streets.

The radio crackled with messages.

Amelia looked out the window trying to calm down.

Matthew was gone, but he knew where she lived.

He would find her again.

The patrol car stopped at her house.

Officer Tanner got out and opened the door for her.

Come to the station tomorrow and file a report.

We’ll take care of it.

Now go home and lock all the doors.

If he shows up again, call 911 immediately.

Thank you.

Thank you so much.

Amelia climbed the stairs to her apartment on shaky legs.

She opened the door, went inside, and locked it behind her.

She leaned her back against the door, and slid down to the floor.

Tears flowed freely.

She sat in the hallway and cried, wrapping her arms around her knees.

The fear she had been holding back the whole way out, burst out.

10 minutes later, she was able to get up.

She went into the room and sat down on the sofa.

Her hands were still shaking.

The phone was in her jacket pocket.

She took it out, found Brooklyn’s contact, and dialed the number.

“Hello,” her friend answered after the third ring.

“How are you, Brooklyn?” Amelia’s voice broke.

“Can you come over? I I need your help.” “What happened? Are you crying? Please come.

I can’t be alone right now.

I’m on my way.

I’ll be there in half an hour.” Amelia hung up the phone and wrapped her arms around herself.

The apartment seemed too big, too quiet.

Every sound outside made her flinch.

Matthew could come back.

He could be waiting at the door.

He could break down the door.

Brooklyn arrived 35 minutes later.

Amelia opened the door, let her friend in, and locked all the locks again.

Brooklyn immediately saw her face.

My god, Amelia, what happened? You look terrible.

They sat down on the sofa.

Amelia told her everything about the message yesterday, about Matthew today, about the knife, the chase, how he wanted to kill her in the alley, about the police officer who saved her.

Brooklyn listened silently, her face growing paler and paler.

“He said you infected him?” she asked.

So he found out.

Yes, his wife found out.

She filed for divorce.

He blames me for ruining his life.

My god.

Brooklyn covered her face with her hands.

Amelia, this is just the beginning.

How many clients have you had in the last month? Five? 10? They could all find out.

They could all come after you.

I know.

Amelia started crying again.

I don’t know what to do.

The police won’t help.

I can’t tell them the truth.

If I do, they’ll arrest me for prostitution or for deliberately infecting people.

You have to tell Caden, Brooklyn said firmly.

Right away today.

No, I can’t.

He’ll leave me.

He can help.

He’s strong.

He can protect you.

Kaden loves you, Amelia.

He’ll forgive you.

He’ll understand.

He won’t forgive me.

Amelia shook her head.

You don’t know him.

He hates lies more than anything.

I’ve been cheating on him for 2 years, sleeping with other men.

I got sick.

I probably infected him.

How could he forgive me? You won’t know until you try.

Brooklyn took her hands.

Listen to me.

You’re in danger.

Real mortal danger.

[music] That Matthew guy might come back.

Other clients might find you.

You need protection.

The police won’t help because you can’t tell them the truth.

But Caden has a right to know and he’s the only one who really cares about you.

Amelia was silent.

Brooklyn was right.

Matthew would come back.

Or someone else would.

She couldn’t live in constant fear, hiding, waiting to die.

Caden had to know, even if it meant losing him.

I’m scared, she whispered.

I know, but you don’t have a choice.

They spent the night together.

Brooklyn stayed on the couch.

Amelia lay down in the bedroom, but didn’t sleep.

She lay with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

She thought about Caden, about how he would react, about what he would say, about how he would look at her after she told him the truth.

The morning was gray and cold.

Brooklyn left at 8:00 for work.

She hugged Amelia goodbye.

Call him today.

Don’t put it off.

I will.

Amelia spent the morning in the apartment.

She drank coffee and looked out the window.

The phone lay on the table.

She picked it up 10 times, then put it down.

At 11:00, she dialed Caden’s number.

Three rings.

Hi, beautiful.

His voice was sleepy.

Is everything okay? Caden, you need to come over right away.

I have something to tell you.

Did something happen? Please come.

It’s important.

I’m on shift until 3:00.

I can come after that.

Okay.

After 3, she hung up.

The next 4 hours dragged on endlessly.

Amelia paced around the apartment, tidied up, tried to read.

Nothing helped.

Her fear grew with every passing minute.

At 3:30, there was a knock at the door.

Caden entered wearing his work uniform which smelled of machine oil.

He immediately saw the look on her face.

What happened? You look sick.

Sit down.

Amelia pointed to the sofa.

Please.

They sat down.

Kaden looked at her with concern.

Amelia clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking.

I have to tell you something.

Something I’ve been hiding for a long time.

something that will destroy everything between us, but I have no choice.

You need to know.

You’re scaring me.

Just say it.

Amelia took a breath.

I lied to you all this time.

I don’t just sell photos on Only Fans.

I meet with men for money.

I’ve been doing it for 8 months, dozens of meetings, different clients.

You didn’t know anything because I hid it carefully.

Caden froze.

His face didn’t change, but his eyes darkened.

What did you say? I’m a prostitute.

I sell my body for money.

I have clients, regulars, and one-timers.

I make thousands of dollars.

I put it in a secret account.

You Cadence stood up.

Are you serious? Is this some kind of joke? It’s not a joke.

Amelia stood up, too.

A month ago, I contracted syphilis from one of my clients.

I underwent treatment, but I continued to see clients.

I infected other people.

Yesterday, I received a threat.

And last night, one of my clients attacked me with a knife.

He wanted to kill me.

I barely escaped.

Caden was silent.

He just stood there and looked at her.

Amelia continued, her words flowing freely.

His name is Matthew.

I met him three weeks ago.

He found out about the disease his wife left him.

He stalked me, caught up with me in an alley.

The police saved me, but he’ll be back or others will come.

I’m in danger and you may be infected, too.

We slept together after I got sick.

You need to get tested.

Shut up, Kaden said quietly.

Kaden, I shut up, he shouted so loudly that she jumped back.

Shut your mouth right now.

He grabbed a vase from the table and threw it against the wall.

Glass shattered everywhere.

Amelia screamed.

Caden walked over to a chair, kicked it over.

He grabbed it by the back, lifted it above his head, and threw it across the room.

The chair hit the wardrobe, and one leg broke off.

“Two years!” he shouted.

“TWO [ __ ] YEARS.

I WORKED LIKE A DOG.

I SAVED EVERY PENNY.

I PLANNED OUR LIFE.

AND YOU? YOU’RE A [ __ ] A COMMON STREET [ __ ] KADEN, please don’t you dare say my name.

He turned to her, his face contorted with rage.

How many were there? How many men [ __ ] you while I dreamed of marriage? Dozens? Hundreds? I didn’t.

And you infected me.

Caden punched the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster.

You poisoned me.

Turned me into the same sick freak as your clients.

I didn’t know then.

I found out later.

I don’t care.

He grabbed a book from the table and threw it at the window.

The glass cracked.

Everything you said, everything you did was a lie.

I loved you.

God, I loved you so much.

And you were just playing games, pretending.

No, Amelia cried.

No, I love you for real.

You’re the only real person in my life.

The rest didn’t mean anything.

Just money.

But you? What about me? Kaden moved closer to her.

Am I a fool? Am I an idiot who believed you? Who worked for you? Who dreamed of a family with you? I’m sorry.

Please forgive me.

I’ll fix everything.

I’ll quit.

We’ll get better.

We’ll start over.

Start over? He laughed.

A terrible, hysterical laugh.

I can’t start over with you.

You’re broken.

You’re rotten inside.

Caden turned and walked to the door.

Amelia rushed after him.

Don’t go.

Please don’t go.

I need your help.

They’re coming for me.

He stopped at the door and turned around.

You’re dead to me.

Do you understand? Dead.

You can forget I exist.

Forget my name.

Forget everything that was between us.

Because it’s gone.

Caden, I hate you.

His voice was icy.

I hate every cell in your body.

I hate you so much that I can’t even look at you right now.

Get out of my life forever.

He opened the door, walked out, and slammed it so hard that the walls shook.

Amelia stood in the middle of the trashed apartment.

Shards of the vase, a broken chair, and scattered belongings lay around her.

She sank to the floor, wrapped her arms around her head, and cried.

She cried for a long time until her throat hurt and she felt nauseous.

Caden was gone.

She had lost him.

She had lost the only person who was real.

Two days passed.

Amelia didn’t leave the apartment.

She ordered food through an app and left a note for the delivery person to leave it at the door.

She called work and said she was sick.

Her phone was ringing off the hook with calls from Brooklyn, but Amelia didn’t answer.

She didn’t have the strength to talk.

[music] She didn’t have the strength to explain anything.

She lay on the sofa staring at the ceiling.

The broken chair was still lying by the closet.

She had swept the pieces of the vase into the corner, but hadn’t cleaned them up.

The crack in the window reminded her of that evening, of Caden, of his rage, of his words.

You’re dead to me.

Amelia replayed that phrase over and over again.

Caden’s voice echoed in her head constantly.

She tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face distorted, full of hatred.

She had lost him forever.

Her fear of Matthew hadn’t gone away.

He could come back.

He could be waiting at the door.

He could track her down.

Amelia checked the door every hour.

All the locks were closed.

The chain was on.

But it didn’t help.

The fear was inside her in every cell of her body.

On the evening of the third day, when it got dark outside, Amelia was overcome with panic.

Real physical panic.

Her heart was beating so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of her chest.

Her breathing quickened.

Her hands trembled.

She got up from the sofa and paced around the room.

It didn’t help.

She sat back down.

She grabbed a pillow and hugged it close.

Every sound from outside made her flinch.

The neighbor’s door slammed and Amelia jumped.

Someone walked up the stairs.

She froze, listening to the footsteps.

A car hummed in the street.

She rushed to the window and looked through the curtains.

No one.

But the fear wouldn’t go away.

She was alone, completely, utterly alone.

Brooklyn no longer responded to her silence.

Caden was gone forever.

Her parents were gone.

They had died long ago.

She had no friends left except Brooklyn.

Her job at the coffee shop was just a cover.

She had no close friends there.

The customers wanted to kill her.

The police couldn’t help without the truth.

Amelia sat in her empty apartment and realized there was no one to call.

No one to call for help.

No one would come.

There was a sudden knock at the door.

Three knocks.

Insistent.

Loud.

Amelia froze.

Her heart stopped for a second, then beat even harder.

Matthew, it’s Matthew.

He found her.

He came to finish what he started.

She stood up and backed toward the bedroom.

The knocking repeated.

Four knocks.

Then a voice.

Amelia.

It’s me.

Open up.

Caden.

Cadence’s voice.

Amelia stopped.

It couldn’t be true.

He was gone.

He said she was dead to him.

Why had he come back? Amelia, I know you’re home.

Please open the door.

I need to talk to you.

She slowly approached the door.

She looked through the peepphole.

Caden was standing on the landing alone.

No knife, no weapon, just standing there waiting.

Amelia removed the chain with trembling hands.

She unlocked the door.

She opened it wide.

Caden entered.

He closed the door behind him.

They stood in the hallway looking at each other.

Amelia didn’t know what to say.

He looked tired.

His eyes were red, as if he hadn’t slept.

His clothes were wrinkled.

“I got carried away,” [music] he said quietly.

“3 days ago.

I was furious.

I couldn’t control myself.

I said things I shouldn’t have said.” “You had a right to be angry,” Amelia whispered.

“I deserved everything you said.” “Maybe, but I’ve thought it over.

I’ve been thinking about it the whole time, and I’ve realized something.” Caden took a step closer.

I love you.

I still love you despite what you did despite the lies, the betrayal.

Amelia felt tears welling up in her eyes.

Really? Really? I tried to hate you.

I wanted to erase you from my memory, but I can’t.

You’re a part of me, [music] and I’m ready to forgive you.

Ready to try again.

She rushed to him, hugged him, and buried her face in his chest.

Caden hugged her back.

He stood motionless, stroking her hair.

Amelia cried, releasing everything she had held in for 3 days.

The relief was so strong that her legs buckled.

Caden held her.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Thank you.

I don’t deserve forgiveness.

I’ll make it right.

I promise.

I’ll give up everything.

We’ll get better.

We’ll be together.

I know.” Kaden stepped back and looked at her.

But there’s a problem right now.

You’re in danger.

That man, Matthew, might come back.

Other clients might find you, too.

[music] It’s not safe to stay here.

I know, but where can I go? My mother has a house.

It’s in the country, 50 mi from here.

She doesn’t live there.

She rents it out sometimes.

It’s empty right now.

We can go there.

Wait until everything settles down.

Think about what to do next.

Amelia nodded without hesitation.

Okay, let’s go.

When? Right now.

Pack your things.

Just the essentials.

We’re leaving today.

She went into the bedroom and got her bag.

She threw in some clothes, cosmetics, her phone, and a charger.

Everything was done in a hurry without much thought.

Cadence stood at the door and watched.

10 minutes later, she was ready.

All done.

We can go.

They went down to Cadence’s car.

It was an old sedan, worn but reliable.

Amelia sat in the front seat.

Kaden started the engine and pulled onto the road.

It was almost 10:00 in the evening and the streets were empty.

They drove north toward the suburbs.

Amelia tried to speak several times.

How have you been these past few days? Fine.

Working? Yes, Kaden.

I want you to know.

Not now.

We’ll talk when we get there.

His voice was even without emotion.

Amelia fell silent and looked out the window.

The city was behind them.

The suburbs began with private houses and empty lots.

The highway was lit by sparse street lights.

There were almost no cars.

Caden drove in silence, staring straight ahead.

They drove for an hour.

They turned off the main road onto a side road.

another 20 minutes down a narrow street.

Finally, Cadence stopped the car in front of a house.

It was a neat one-story house with a small porch.

There were other houses around it, neighboring plots.

It was a quiet, peaceful neighborhood.

We’re here, Kaden said.

They got out of the car.

Kaden took out his keys and opened the door.

They went inside.

The house was simply furnished.

a living room with a sofa, a kitchen, two bedrooms.

It was clean but empty.

Kaden turned on the light and closed the door behind them.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said.

“I’ll [music] be right back.” Amelia put her bag on the floor.

She walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa.

Caden remained standing by the door.

He reached into his jacket pocket.

He took out a gun.

Amelia didn’t understand at first.

She looked at the weapon, not understanding why it was there.

“Kaden held the gun in his hand and looked at her.” “I had tests done yesterday,” he said calmly.

“The results came in this morning.

Syphilis has been confirmed.

You infected me.” Amelia stood up.

Her heart sank.

“Kaden, it’s treatable.

Antibiotics.

We’ll both get treatment.

It’s not fatal.

You don’t understand.” Kaden raised the gun and pointed it at her.

I don’t care about treatment.

I care about what you’ve done to me, to my life.

What are you doing? Put it down, please.

I planned my whole life with you.

Caden’s voice broke into a scream.

My whole [ __ ] life.

I worked two jobs, saved every penny, dreamed of a wedding, a house, kids.

I would have given you everything.

Do you understand? Everything I have? He punched the wall.

The plaster cracked.

And what were you doing? You slept with dozens of men, sold yourself like a thing, and you infected me.

Poisoned my body with your filth.

I didn’t want to, Amelia cried.

I didn’t know then.

I found out later.

I don’t care.

Kaden grabbed a chair and threw it across the room.

The chair hit the wall and broke.

You betrayed me.

You destroyed everything I built.

You turned our love into a lie.

Tears streamed down his face.

His face was contorted with rage and pain.

His hand holding the gun was shaking.

I loved you so much more than anyone else in my life.

I was ready to die for you.

And you? You’re a monster.

Just a monster who sells herself.

Forgive me.

Amelia fell to her knees.

Please forgive me.

I’ll fix everything.

I’ll do anything.

Just don’t kill me, please.

You think I brought you here by accident? Caden laughed, a terrible, hysterical laugh.

I lured you here on purpose.

I lied that I forgave you.

I pretended to be a loving fool so I could bring you here and kill you far from the city where no one would hear.

No, Kaden.

No.

You deserve this.

His voice turned icy.

for your betrayal, for your lies, for turning me into a sick man, for breaking my heart.

We can fix everything,” Amelia cried.

“We’ll get better.

We’ll start over.

I’ll be better.

I promise.

I can’t start over with you.” Caden raised the gun higher.

“You’re rotten inside and out.

And I hate you as much as I loved you.” His hand was shaking.

His whole body was shaking with rage and pain.

He stood over her, the gun pointed at her head.

Amelia closed her eyes, continued to cry, continued to beg.

The shot rang out deafeningly in the silence of the house.

Amelia fell to the floor.

Blood spread across the floor.

Cadence stood over the body, breathing heavily.

The gun was still in his hand.

The rage in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by emptiness.

He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.

He took out a folded piece of paper.

He unfolded it.

It was written in his handwriting.

I deserved all this.

He crouched down, opened Amelia’s jaw, and stuffed the note deep into her mouth.

He stood up straight.

He stood there for another minute looking at the body.

Then he turned around and left the house.

He closed the door.

He got into his car and drove off into the night.

Amelia Winslow’s body was discovered 2 days after the murder.

Norma Griswald, a 62-year-old neighbor of Kaden’s mother, was passing by the house in the morning.

She noticed that the front door was a jar.

This seemed strange.

The house was supposed to be empty.

Norma approached, looked inside, and saw a body on the living room floor.

The police arrived 15 minutes later.

Detectives examined the crime scene and recorded the evidence.

There was a note in the victim’s mouth, signs of a struggle, and a single shell casing on the floor.

The identity was quickly established.

The documents were in the bag.

Amelia Winslow, 24 years old, Chicago.

On the other side of town, Brooklyn Hayward sat at work and dialed her friend’s number for the hundth time.

Rings: answering machine.

She had already left 10 messages.

Amelia hadn’t answered her calls for the last 3 days.

Brooklyn was worried, but she thought her friend was just going through a rough patch after breaking up with Kaden.

She needed some time alone.

She didn’t know that Amelia was already dead.

She didn’t know that she would never hear her voice again.