*Chapter 4: The Wrong Room*
The dark was thick.
Jane Carter woke up to it pressing against her chest like a weight.
Her head was pounding. Her mouth was dry. The air smelled like old cologne and spilled wine.
_Where am I?_
She tried to move. Her limbs felt like they were underwater. Slow. Heavy.
The bed shifted beside her.
Jane’s eyes snapped open.
A man.
Not Ethan.
Not her father.
A stranger.
He was in his early 30s, maybe. Dark hair messy over his forehead. White dress shirt half unbuttoned. One arm thrown over his eyes like he had a migraine. The other arm was stretched across the bed... inches from her.
Jane shot backward so fast she nearly fell off the mattress.
Her breath came in broken pieces.
_The guest room. The punch. Chloe’s hand on her arm. The locked door._
The room came back to her in flashes.
Beige walls. No photos. The glass of punch on the nightstand, still half full.
And on the floor, near the closet — another man.
Older. 40s. Suit pants, tie loose. Also out cold.
Mr. Dalton. Her dad’s business partner.
Understanding hit her like ice water.
_That was the plan._
Get her drunk. Get her in here. With him.
Record it. Send it to Ethan. Destroy her.
But something went wrong.
Because this man on the bed wasn’t Mr. Dalton.
Jane scrambled off the bed. Her legs wobbled. The room tilted.
She didn’t look at either of them again. She couldn’t.
Her shoes were by the door. She shoved her feet in.
Her hands were shaking so badly it took three tries to turn the doorknob.
The hallway was empty. Silent.
Downstairs, she could hear faint music. Laughter.
Victoria’s laugh. Chloe’s.
Like nothing had happened.
Jane moved barefoot across the cold tiles. Past the kitchen. Past the birthday balloons that were already starting to deflate.
Out the front door. Into the night.
The air hit her face and she gasped, like she’d been underwater for hours.
She ran.
No phone. No purse. No jacket.
Just her, in jeans and a wrinkled blouse, running down the street at 2am.
#### *Meanwhile, in the guest room*
Ryan Sterling groaned.
His head felt like it had been hit with a bat. His mouth tasted like chemicals.
The last thing he remembered was a company party. Someone handing him a drink. Then... nothing.
He opened his eyes.
Ceiling. Not his penthouse.
He sat up too fast. The room spun.
And then he saw them.
A man on the floor. Passed out.
And the indentation on the bed beside him. Like someone had just gotten up.
“Hello?” Ryan’s voice was rough.
No answer.
He stood. His legs weren’t steady. He walked to the door, opened it, and peered out.
Empty hallway. Fancy house. Not his.
_Wrong room_, he thought dimly. _I was in the wrong room._
He stumbled out, down the stairs, and out the front door into the cold.
A security guard at the gate stopped him.
“Sir, are you okay?”
Ryan rubbed his face. “I... I think I need a cab.”
He didn’t know whose house this was.
He didn’t know who was in that bed with him.
And for the next 5 years, he would never forget the smell of that perfume. Light. Vanilla. Faint.
The only proof she was ever there.
#### *Bella’s Apartment, 3:14 AM*
Jane was shaking when Bella opened the door.
“Jane? Oh my God, what happened—”
Jane didn’t answer. She just collapsed into Bella’s arms and cried.
The kind of crying that tears something open inside you.
Bella locked the door and led her to the couch. Wrapped her in blankets. Made tea she didn’t drink.
It took an hour before Jane could speak.
“They drugged me,” she whispered. “At my birthday. My own family.”
Bella went completely still. “What?”
“I heard them. After. Victoria and Chloe. Laughing. ‘Did it work?’ ‘No video but she was in there with a man.’” Jane’s voice cracked. “They were trying to set me up. With Mr. Dalton. To ruin me. So Ethan would leave me. So Chloe could have him.”
Bella’s face went white with rage. “We’re going to the police. Right now.”
“No.” Jane shook her head. “They’ll say I was drunk. They’ll say I wanted it. They have money. Lawyers. No one will believe me.”
“Then what?” Bella grabbed her hands. “Jane, you can’t just—”
“I have to leave,” Jane cut in. “Tonight. Before they realize I’m gone. Before they try again.”
“Where will you go?”
Jane thought of Grandma Rose. Of the $2000 Grandma kept hidden for emergencies. Of the passport in her drawer.
“London,” she whispered. “I have a cousin there. I can start over.”
Bella pulled her into a hug so tight it hurt. “I’m coming with you to the airport.”
Jane nodded against her shoulder.
Outside, the sky was starting to turn gray.
Inside, Jane made a vow to the dark:
_You tried to break me in one night.
I’m going to spend the rest of my life becoming someone you can’t touch._