Elena's POV
I can't stop shaking.
The taxi drops me at my apartment building. I pay with my credit card, praying it still works. It does. For now.
My legs feel like water as I climb the stairs. Each step echoes in the empty stairwell. My phone keeps buzzing, more messages from people who used to be my friends.
Can't believe you stole money.
Don't contact me.
We're not associated anymore.
Delete. Delete. Delete.
I reach my floor. Pull out my keys. My hands shake so badly it takes three tries to unlock the door.
Derek? I call out. Derek, are you
I freeze.
Cardboard boxes line the hallway. My boxes. Filled with my clothes, my books, my picture frames. Everything I own, packed up like trash waiting for collection.
No. The word comes out as a whisper. No, no, no.
Derek appears from the bedroom. He's wearing his expensive work suit. Hair perfectly styled. He looks like he's heading to a business meeting, not ending our relationship.
Elena. His voice is cold. Professional. We need to talk.
What is this? I gesture at the boxes. Derek, what's happening?
He picks up something from the hall table. My grandmother's ring. The engagement ring he gave me six months ago with tears in his eyes, promising forever.
He holds it out to me like it's contaminated.
I can't marry a criminal, he says flatly.
The world stops spinning.
What?
My boss called me an hour ago. Told me about your arrest
I wasn't arrested! My voice cracks. Derek, they fired me. Accused me of stealing, but I didn't do it. I swear I didn't
The evidence says otherwise. He drops the ring into my palm. The metal is cold. Dead weight. Everyone saw the documents. Your signature. Your access codes.
Those were forged! Tears burn my eyes. Steven framed me. Derek, you know me. You know I would never steal
Do I? He finally looks at me. Really looks at me. And his eyes are empty. Stranger's eyes. We've been together two years, Elena. And apparently, I didn't know you at all.
The words hit like a physical blow.
How can you say that? My voice breaks. You proposed to me. You said you loved me. You said
I loved who I thought you were. He straightens his tie. Checking his reflection in the hallway mirror. But my boss is right. I need to distance myself from this situation. For my career.
Your career? I stare at him. I just lost my job. My reputation. Everything. And you're worried about your career?
Someone has to be practical. His tone is matter-of-fact. Like we're discussing groceries. Elena, you're toxic right now. Every news outlet is running your story. 'Financial Analyst Arrested for Fraud.' Do you know what that does to someone associated with you?
Associated? I laugh. It sounds hysterical. Derek, we're engaged. We live together. We were planning a wedding
Were. He emphasizes the word. Past tense.
I grab his arm. Please. Please, Derek. I need you right now. I need someone to believe me
He shakes me off. I'm not that someone.
But you love me
I loved the woman I thought was honest. Hardworking. Innocent. He picks up his briefcase from the couch. You're not her. So this, us it's over.
The finality in his voice destroys something inside me.
Just like that? Tears stream down my face. Two years, and you're walking away without even hearing my side?
Your side doesn't matter. The evidence speaks for itself. He walks to the door. Pauses with his hand on the handle. For what it's worth, I did care about you. But I care about my future more. Julia understands that.
The name pierces through my shock. Julia? Julia from your office?
She's been very supportive during this difficult time. He won't look at me. She's moving in tomorrow.
My stomach drops. Tomorrow? You're already, Derek, we broke up ten minutes ago!
Actually, we broke up three hours ago when I saw the news. He opens the door. I just needed time to pack your things. And have this conversation.
So you've been planning this? My voice rises. While I was being dragged out of my office, you were already replacing me?
I'm protecting myself, Elena. You should have thought about consequences before you stole that money.
I DIDN'T STEAL ANYTHING!
The neighbors' doors open. Mrs. Chen from 6B peers out. Mr. Rodriguez from 6D stares openly.
Derek's face flushes. Keep your voice down.
Why? Rage explodes in my chest. Worried people will know you're a coward? That you abandoned your fiancée the second things got hard?
I'm being smart. His voice drops to something cold and mean. Something you clearly weren't when you committed fraud.
He walks out. Just walks out. Leaving me standing in the hallway surrounded by boxes of my dismantled life.
The door closes with a soft click.
I stand there, unable to move. Unable to breathe.
Two years. Gone in minutes.
My phone buzzes. I look down numbly.
Bank notification: Credit card declined - $42 taxi fare reversed
My card stopped working. They're freezing my accounts.
Another buzz. Email from my landlord:
Ms. Martinez - Rent unpaid for three months. Eviction proceedings initiated. Please vacate by 6 PM today or police will be called.
Three months? That's impossible. I paid rent. Derek said he paid rent.
I call him. It rings once, then goes to voicemail.
Derek, what does this mean? The landlord says rent hasn't been paid for three months
Another email arrives while I'm talking. From Derek's number:
The apartment was always in my name. I stopped paying when I moved my money to the new place with Julia. You're responsible for the back rent now. Good luck.
My knees give out. I slide down the wall, phone clutched in my hand.
He planned this. Stopped paying rent months ago, knowing I'd get stuck with the debt. Knowing I'd be evicted.
How long has he been with Julia? How long has this betrayal been building?
Footsteps echo in the hallway. I look up.
Marcus, Derek's friend, my roommate for the past year, stands there with another man. They're carrying boxes marked Marcus - New Bedroom.
You need to leave, Marcus says. Not apologetic. Not kind. Just factual. I'm moving my stuff into the second bedroom today.
Marcus, please. I try to stand. My legs won't cooperate. Can I just have a few days to figure things out? I can pay you back
With what money? He sets down his box. Elena, you owe three months rent. That's forty-five hundred dollars. Derek said you can't pay. So you can't stay.
Derek lied! I didn't know about the rent
Not my problem. Marcus pulls out his phone. You have until six PM. After that, I'm calling the police to remove you for trespassing.
Trespassing? My voice breaks. I live here!
Not anymore. He turns away. Six PM, Elena. Don't make this harder than it has to be.
He and his friend disappear into the apartment, closing the door behind them.
Locking me out.
I sit in the hallway surrounded by boxes. My entire life reduced to cardboard and packing tape.
My phone buzzes again. And again. And again.
Messages from former coworkers:
Did you really steal millions?
Can't believe we trusted you.
Hope you go to jail.
Social media notifications flooding in. People I haven't spoken to in years commenting on my posts:
Criminal.
Thief.
You deserve this.
I try calling my college roommate Sarah. Voicemail.
My work friend Jennifer. Number disconnected.
My cousin Maria. Straight to voicemail, then a text: Please don't contact me. My family can't be associated with this.
One by one, every person I know disappears.
Blocks my number. Deletes me from their life. Erases me like I never existed.
By 5:30 PM, I'm sitting on the sidewalk outside my apartment building.
Mrs. Chen walks by with her dog. Sees me. Crosses to the other side of the street.
A child points at me. Mommy, is that the bad lady from TV?
The mother hurries past, pulling her daughter along.
I'm a ghost. A pariah. Invisible to everyone who used to know me.
My phone buzzes one more time.
Bank notification: Account balance $47.23
Forty-seven dollars. That's all I have in the world.
No job. No home. No fiancé. No friends. No family.
Nothing.
I pick up my single bag of belongings, all I could carry from the boxes. A change of clothes. My laptop. My grandmother's ring that Derek threw back at me.
And I start walking.
The sun sets over Manhattan. The city I used to love turns cold and foreign. Every face is a stranger. Every building a reminder of what I lost.
I walk for hours. No destination. Just movement because stopping means facing reality.
Around 11 PM, I find myself in front of a 24-hour diner. Bright lights. Warm inside.
I check my bank balance: $47.23
Coffee is two dollars. I can afford that.
I push open the door and choose a booth in the back corner. Away from windows. Away from people who might recognize me from the news.
The waitress brings me coffee without asking. Her nametag says Ruth.
Rough night, honey? she asks gently.
I can't answer. If I speak, I'll cry. And if I start crying, I might never stop.
Ruth pats my shoulder and walks away.
I wrap my hands around the warm mug and stare at my phone. Scrolling through news articles about myself. Reading lies disguised as truth.
Elena Martinez: From Rising Star to Fallen Criminal
Financial Analyst Arrested in Multimillion Dollar Fraud
Former Coworkers Say They 'Always Knew Something Was Wrong'
They didn't know. They didn't suspect. But now they're rewriting history to make themselves look smart.
My eyes burn. My body aches. I haven't eaten since yesterday.
I'm twenty-seven years old. Sitting in a diner at midnight with forty-five dollars and no future.
This is rock bottom.
This is the end of Elena Martinez's story.
Except somewhere deep in my chest, beneath the pain and fear and exhaustion, something else burns.
Rage.
Steven Palmer destroyed me. Derek abandoned me. Marcus Blackwell—whoever he is—probably orchestrated all of this for reasons I don't understand yet.
But I'm not dead. I'm still breathing. Still thinking.
And if I'm going down, I'm taking them with me.
I just need a plan. A way out. A miracle.
The diner door chimes. Someone walks in. I don't look up.
Footsteps approach my booth.
A man's voice, smooth and cold: Elena Martinez.
I freeze. Not a question. A statement.
I look up slowly.
A tall man in an expensive coat stands beside my table. Dark hair. Gray eyes like winter storms. Handsome in a sharp, dangerous way.
He slides into the booth across from me without asking permission.
You need money, he says. I need a wife. Let's make a deal.