Chapter Eleven
Erin
I wake with a groan and sit up slowly on the sofa, my neck stiff and my limbs heavy. The glaring glow of dawn filters through the tall windows, casting long, golden streaks across the floor. My eyes are bleary, my throat dry, and for a moment, I sit there staring blankly at the city skyline.
‘It never happened. We clear?’
The ache in my chest feels too familiar, like an old wound ripped open. I try to breathe through it, but it burns too much, choking me up.
I know this feeling well…rejection. It had been my constant companion during my childhood, and I should be used to it by now. But I am not, and everything resurfaces. The feeling pulls me under like a wave of fire scorching my lungs, suffocating me from within.
My mind drifts, unbidden, to those long-ago days at the children’s home.
The memory is cruel and piercing as it flits through my mind.
I am sitting on the edge of a worn couch, legs swinging nervously, dressed in my best clothes, with so much hope in my heart I am sure I will be sick.
My hands are shaking but I hide them in the folds of my dress as I sit there, waiting.
Waiting for someone, anyone, to see me, to choose me.
And every time they left with someone else, I told myself it didn’t matter.
That next time would be different. But it never was, they never chose me.
‘You have to understand, Erin. People want to adopt younger children. They have less emotional baggage.’
Foster families came and went, each one a temporary pit stop on a road that never led to a place called home. I learned early how to hide my feelings, how to read a room, how to pack my things fast and not ask questions. I was the polite, smiling girl. I was easy to overlook and easier to forget.
When I aged out of foster care, I ended up in a group home that was run-down and crowded, but it was still better than some of the foster homes I’d gone through.
The group home was where I first touched a computer.
I only wanted to change an exam grade I had butchered because I had been too busy with part-time shifts in a fast-food job and mandatory youth workshops.
I didn’t even know what I was doing but the moment my fingers flew over the keys and the system bent to my will, something clicked inside me.
For the first time in my life, I was in control.
I had power, even if only in cyberspace, and it changed my life.
Although I had the ability to cheat my way into a scholarship by the time I went to college, I didn’t.
I worked hard, honing my skills on the side like a hobby because it didn’t feel right using them like an easy way out.
What had felt right, though, was going to vet school, because animals make sense to me.
They don’t lie, they don’t leave. Loving them is easy, easier than people.
That’s where I met Lily.
At first, I thought she was only being polite.
She is that kind of person who is genuinely warm and generous.
She is quiet and magnetic, drawing people in without even trying.
But Lily didn’t just offer a smile or make small talk.
She saw right through the version of me I showed the world, the loud, sunny, untouchable girl who smiled too brightly to hide her scars.
And still, she stayed. More importantly, she chose me.
We started as roommates then we became friends.
And somewhere along the way, she became my family, my sister.
She was steadfast by my side through study and saw every piece of me, even the ones I never meant to show.
She found me on my computer when she walked into my room one night when I was too engrossed in the lines of code dancing across the screen to notice what was happening around me.
She understood right away, but she didn’t recoil in contempt.
She was genuinely curious, asking questions, eyes lighting up in awe.
“Show me,” she said, looking at my screen like it was magic.
And I did. From that moment on, she had blindly supported me on my side hobby, never judging once.
She accepted me despite my shadows. She became my rock and I would burn the world to protect her.
But right now, sitting alone with my heart cracked open again, I feel like that little girl on the couch all over again. Unwanted, unpicked. Unloved. And I hate that someone like Matteo could make me feel this way.
I close my eyes and take a shaky breath. No more of this. I’ve spent enough of my life aching for people who didn’t choose me.
I am not that little girl anymore. I am strong now. I am in control. And damn Matteo for making me feel this small and miserable. But never again , I vow. I won’t give him or anyone this power over me again.
I wipe my cheeks, square my shoulders, and force myself to my feet to shuffle to the bathroom. I brush my teeth then gulp down a glass of cold water, my gaze catching on the mirror.
The woman staring back looks nothing like me—her blonde hair is a mess of tangles, violet eyes swollen and red, lips pressed into a tight, grim line.
“Who is this picture of misery?” I whisper, squinting at my reflection. “Pull yourself together, Erin. You’re stronger than this.”
By the time I’ve thrown on a new pair of leggings and a hoodie, I feel more grounded. I grab my phone and type out a quick message to Lily.
Hey, I had a little too much champagne last night.Gonna skip brunch if that’s okay.
xoxo.
I don’t wait for a reply. Instead, I sit down cross-legged on the living room sofa, flip open my secure laptop and let my fingers fly over the keyboard.
Soon, the world narrows to lines of white code dancing over a black screen.
The ache in my chest dulls beneath the thrum of purpose and the hypnotic rhythm of my fingers clacking over the keys.
All day, I bury myself in the grid. I start browsing message boards, encrypted groups and remote corners of the darknet like a woman possessed.
Illegal weapons shipments, trafficking alerts, crypto scams disguised as humanitarian funds—if there’s something shady happening in this city, I find it and I make damn sure someone pays.
I focus on the most heinous, I gather every piece of evidence I can and wipe it clean of any clue that could lead back to me. Then I send it through a maze of fake accounts and secure connections before I drop it anonymously to the authorities.
It’s not about justice, not today.
Today, it’s about control, about taking back the reins.
I may have lost myself for one night, but today, I remember who I am.