LISA’S POV
Pain has a scent.
It lingers in the air, like old perfume—faint, bitter, unforgettable.
I smelled it the moment I stepped into the penthouse bathroom. Blood and bleach. The towels I used after the attack were gone, but the memory stayed—seeped into the walls, into the cracks of my bones. My hand trembled as I touched the cold marble sink, the mirror reflecting a woman I no longer recognized.
Hair disheveled.
Eyes hollow.
A monster of elegance.
My bruises had begun to blossom. Faint purples around my ribs. A red s***h down my shoulder where the blade had scraped skin. But those weren’t the wounds that hurt.
Not like Melanie’s betrayal.
Not like the silence she left behind.
She had been my friend. My closest ally in a world where smiles cost more than knives. And now?
S
