Jennifer let out a low, triumphant laugh that grew louder, filling the dim space with an eerie resonance. The man tried to push himself up, but the strength was rapidly draining from his body. When he attempted to speak, only a strained gasp escaped his lips. It was then he realized—he had fallen into Jennifer's trap. "When... did you...?" he rasped, struggling to prop himself against the stained mattress as he stared at her in disbelief. Jennifer had always been so compliant. Why was she different today? He'd been poisoned—but he'd been careful not to eat or drink anything she touched. So how...? "Did I smell good to you?" Jennifer stepped forward and pressed her shoe firmly against his chest. "You always loved how I smelled, didn't you? Every place you kissed was coated with something meant to send you straight to hell. Heh... it wasn't cheap, either. Took me a while to source it from the underground market. Today, it finally served its purpose. "You thought you could keep blackmailing me? A worthless piece of trash like you?" Jennifer increased the pressure under her foot. "Today... I'm setting myself free. Permanently." The man's eyes widened in horrified understanding. She had laced her own skin with poison. Every kiss, every touch—he had sealed his own fate. A savage glare burned in his eyes as he tried to lift a hand toward her, but his arm fell limp. "You... you..." "You disgust me. From the moment you tricked me all those years ago, I've wanted you dead." Jennifer ground her heel into his chest. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but her expression remained cold. "Only when you're gone will my secrets be buried forever. "The dead don't talk. No one will ever know about my past." Jennifer's laughter rang out again, sharp and unhinged. "You'll turn to dust. Become nothing." With a final shudder, the man's hand dropped. His face contorted in a last snarl of hatred, but he had no strength left. As the poison completed its work, he choked, spat a mouthful of dark blood, and went still—eyes wide open, fixed on nothing. Jennifer stared down at the man—lifeless, his chest still as a stone—and laughed, a harsh, triumphant cackle that echoed through the empty room. "You bastard! Damn you! Damn you straight to hell... You should've died years ago! Without you, I'd be living a life of glitz and glory—you're the reason I'm stuck in this gutter!"She drove her stiletto heels into his body, over and over, the sharp points digging into flesh with brutal force. Blood oozed beneath her shoes, staining the floor in dark, sticky splotches, but she didn't relent. She ground her heels into his corpse, teeth bared, as if she could bludgeon every last ounce of rage and resentment out of her bones. Eventually, exhaustion dragged at her limbs. She stumbled back, chest heaving, and glared at the mess at her feet—blood, crumpled clothes, the hollow shell of the man who'd ruined her—with unbridled disgust. "You... don't even deserve to be remembered." With that, she pulled out the lighter she'd been clutching so tight her knuckles whitened, flicked it open with a sharp click, and hurled it into the mountain of takeout garbage piled in the corner. In the blink of an eye, flames erupted—hungry, roaring, devouring the room in a searing inferno. Jennifer watched, cold and unflinching, as the fire consumed everything—the shabby walls, the evidence of her crime, and all the dark, festering secrets that had chained her for so long, turning them to ash and smoke. She turned on her heel, and slipped away into the night—quiet, unhurried, untouchable. Even if someone found the charred remains, so what? No one would ever piece together what had happened here. She'd covered her tracks, wiped away every trace, and left nothing but a pile of cinders to tell the tale. ***** At an upscale restaurant across town, Chloe sighed softly as she studied the person seated across from her. How time flew. Here was Melinda—only nineteen, yet already so tall. She had to be over six feet! And if she wore heels? Unthinkable. It wouldn't have been so striking if she were merely tall—but Melinda was also strikingly handsome. And she was a woman! Chloe gazed at that sculpted, androgynous face, so compelling it almost felt dangerous. I wonder if Oralia's wrapped her shoot yet. She ought to come see what real charisma looks like. "Darling, I've been waiting six years for you to treat me to a proper dinner," Melinda said, tilting her head as she studied Chloe. "My little sister's all grown up now." "You've changed a lot, too," Chloe replied warmly. When Melinda was younger, she used to follow Chloe everywhere—back when she was just twelve or thirteen. Now... Chloe cleared her throat lightly. "I can't help wondering—if your fans knew a big star like you was out with me, would I end up trending online?" Melinda had been peeling a shrimp. She paused and set it down. "Don't worry. I wouldn't mind a little scandal with you." Chloe laughed. The granddaughter of Blaine truly had a magnetic charm. "Have you decided where you're staying?" Chloe asked. "Not yet. I came into town for a few events, so I'll be around for a bit. Can I crash with you while I'm here?" Melinda carefully placed the peeled shrimp on Chloe's plate, then picked up another. "I really want to see little Robert. I even brought him the latest Lego sets."