Page 10 of Sinful Lies

As the bus pulled away from Bay Village, I exhaled, feeling the weight of the past slipping away with every mile. I didn’t know what really awaited me in New York, but for the first time in what felt like forever, it didn’t matter.

I was finally leaving.

“I have a job interview. Wish me luck!” I called out, making my way to the door.

Leila barely spared me a glance, her attention consumed byThe Housewives of Atlanta.

She waved her hand lazily in my direction, a cigarette perched between her lips, her eyes glued to the chaos unfolding on screen. One of the housewives had just tossed her champagne glass at another, all over some petty accusation.

I shrugged into my coat, the cold air outside already biting at my skin as I let my hair cascade out from under the collar. The harsh New York winter gripped me the moment I stepped out, and no matter how many months I’d spent here, it still felt like a shock to the system.

Living in the Bronx wasn’t something I’d ever imagined for myself, but Leila had made it work. She’d won the lottery years ago and built herself a life from it. She’d bought this small houseand put in the work to turn it into something that felt like home. But it was too big for just her now, so she rented it out.

First to her friends, then to people trying to make it here—like me.

I’d asked her once about how she’d met Aunt Kristine, and I could’ve sworn I saw a flicker of something cross her face. A hesitation. She claimed they’d beenclosein college, but something in her eyes didn’t match the story. Aunt Kristine had only lasted a month in college before she ditched it all to open a nail salon.

Maybe Leila wasn’t telling the whole truth. Maybe she didn’t want to.

She had told me the house had become too big for her alone, though I could tell it was really just the right size for two.

But I guess, deep down, she knew she needed the company.

I slid into the taxi heading for Manhattan and crossed my legs, the black tights clinging to my skin, my high-heeled boots digging into my toes.

I let my eyes wander over the cityscape. The cold air sliced through the towering skyscrapers while the neon lights of the city flickered by in a blur, painting the night in electric colors.

It had been six months.

Six months since I’d touchedanything. No drugs. No alcohol.

Nothing to dull the pain or silence the voices in my head or the faces that haunted my dreams. I’d been facing my demons alone for all this time. But the only thing that kept me going was work—andrevenge.

I spent my mornings serving breakfast at a diner, grinding away to keep my head above water. It was the kind of work that kept me distracted, kept me from completely losing myself.

But in the afternoons, I switched gears. I worked at a vintage boutique—one that Leila knew the owner of. The store was small, but it was my escape.

It gave me the time I needed, the time to sit quietly, take in the city, and plan my next move. Between folding clothes and ringing up customers, I would watch. I would think.

But at night? That’s when the real work started. That’s when I built my plan.

There were many sleepless nights, endlessly scrolling through Google, LinkedIn, even Facebook. I didn’t care how long it took, how much I had to dig—I wasn’t going to stop until I had what I needed.

And then, I found it.

A name.

The one person who, unknowingly, would be the key to my revenge.

The cab driver’s voice snapped me back. “There. Lazzio Exhibits Inc. That’ll be fifty bucks.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. This city was way too expensive.

I pulled out the cash and handed it over.

He snatched it quickly, offering me a half-hearted smile. “Good luck. The Lazzios are known to be evil.”

My gaze drifted to the towering glass building of the museum, gleaming under the night’s light snow, standing like a fortress in the heart of the city.

---