On the bed was blood—so much blood, Hailey thought there had been a bloodbath. Which was close to what had just happened.
Mr. Silbetto was dead.
There was a hole in his chest, and his eyes were wide open, staring directly at her, as though he were still alive—watching her reaction.
Hailey began to tremble violently, wondering what kind of cursed luck had fallen on her since the previous day. Everything just kept getting worse.
First, Blake cheated and asked for a divorce. Then she was kicked out and denied her inheritance. Then Aiden got sick. And just when she'd finally found a way to pay for his medical bills, she became a witness to a murder.
Her hands flew to her mouth as she gasped, still frozen in place.
But once the shock wore off and she accepted what lay before her, she didn't hesitate. She grabbed her bag and bolted.
Outside, the world carried on like nothing had happened. It was clear no one had heard the gunshot or had any idea there was a corpse upstairs in one of the hotel rooms.
Hailey kept her head low and covered her face with the sleeve of her shirt while bringing her hair down as she passed through the hotel entrance, careful to avoid the CCTV cameras.
She walked quickly, her pulse erratic. And yet—she felt eyes on her.
She kept glancing over her shoulder, but each time she looked, people just continued about their business. No one was suspicious. No one was chasing her. Still, the dread in her gut wouldn't fade.
She'd witnessed a murder. They'd find out soon that someone else had been with Mr. Silbetto. They would come looking for her.
Hailey tried to hail a cab, only to remember she had no cash—just her bank card. Her hands trembled as she pulled out her phone and dialed Julia.
There was no answer.
She called again—still nothing.
The strip club usually closed around 5am and it was barely 2am. Julia must still be busy.
Tears pricked her eyes. She had no idea where to go.
Back to her parents?
The same parents who kicked her out twice and all but disowned her?
'Maybe if I tell them what happened, they'll help me,' she thought.
But even as the idea surfaced, she knew it was a desperate hope. They wouldn't lift a finger for her.
Still, she started walking toward the mansion, even though it was far. She kept her face hidden like her life depended on it—because maybe it did.
Her thoughts spiraled.
What if they knew she was there?
What if they came for her?
'What would happen to Aiden if they killed me too?'
Tears streamed down her face before she realized it. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice she was walking into the middle of the street.
"Get out of the way!!"
The shout yanked her back to reality. She turned just as blinding headlights flared in her eyes—then came the bang.
**
Hailey woke up to an unfamiliar ceiling.
She winced and grabbed her head, feeling dizzy as she sat up slowly. Her thoughts were jumbled until the memory slammed into her—bright lights, a horn, the crash.
She'd been hit.
However, there was no pain, no bandages, no IV. And this definitely didn't look like a hospital room because the furnitures looked expensive and perfectly polished. They screamed luxury, especially with the king sized bed she was laying on.
Panic settled in her chest.
She scanned the room. There were no ropes, no restraints which only confused her even more.
Sunlight poured through the curtain. It was already morning.
She opened the bedside drawer—and there they were: her phone and purse, still intact.
She grabbed her phone and gasped at the dozens of missed calls and hundreds of texts from Julia.
"Oh no…" she muttered.
She was about to call back when the sound of the door creaking open made her freeze.
A man walked in.
He was tall, at least 6'3. He wore a dark hoodie and thick sweats, his hair ruffled and damp as if he'd just stepped out of the shower. The smell of lavender and sandalwood attacked her nostrils—he smelled fresh.
His features were striking and dark, unreadable eyes, full lips, and a strong jaw. The hoodie couldn't hide the muscles beneath.
For a moment, Hailey forgot to breathe.
"Who are you?" she asked, swallowing hard.
She thought Blake was the most handsome man she'd ever seen—but this stranger made her question everything. Her heart skipped several beats in a row, and she made a mental note to ask Dr. Phil if that was normal.
"I'm Killian Valtieri," he said, taking a seat on the couch across from her, his gaze calm but curious. Even though she looked like she'd just rolled out of bed—hair messy, eyes still foggy with sleep—there was something about her that caught the light just right. The morning sun slipped through the curtains and lit up her brown hair, giving it a soft golden glow. Her eyes, wide and alert, seemed to shift in color, turning almost amber in the light. "My driver almost hit you last night. He swerved just in time, but you fainted."
His voice was deep and calm, but the heat in his eyes made her cheeks flush.
"I appreciate it," Hailey said, standing up. "But I need to leave."
Killian didn't budge. "You were the stripper at the club earlier, weren't you?" he asked. "I could've taken you back to your husband… but I didn't think that was a good idea."
Hailey froze.
She recognized him now. Killian Valtieri—one of Roman Valtieri's sons. She'd seen him a few times at events with Blake, but they'd never spoken.
"It's a good thing you didn't," she snapped, moving toward the door.
But he wasn't letting her go.
"You know something," he said suddenly.
Her heart dropped.
"What do you mean?" she asked, trying and failing to keep her voice steady.
Killian stood, and now that he was closer, she realized he was even taller than she'd thought. Or maybe she was just too short.
"Your client," he said.
Her heartbeat thundered in her chest.
"…is dead."
Hailey's breath caught.
Killian watched her closely. Mr. Silbetto had been a known shareholder at the Valtieri company, which was why his death had been all over the news this morning. He'd also coincidentally seen her leaving the club with him earlier.
He had his suspicions. Maybe she did it. Maybe she saw who did.
She didn't look like someone capable of killing a man… but in Killian's world, appearances meant nothing.
"I didn't kill him," Hailey said sharply.
"Oh," Killian replied, his tone calm but pointed. "So you do know something."