Chapter 204

~ Bella ~

I’ve been hiding for three days in a hotel room in Queens, and I can feel the walls closing in. Not because they’re small. They’re closing in because I can see everything falling apart, and I’m running out of time.

I needed to act fast. No one knew where I am, I am just under a disguise.

My phone won’t stop buzzing. Messages from contacts I’d rather forget. News alerts about everything happening with the Flemingtons. I don’t open most of them. I just watch the notifications pile up like they’re a countdown timer to my arrest.

Dorian got arrested this morning. I saw it on the news. They came for him at the Flemington headquarters, and he went quietly. That should have told me something right there. I am sure there was enough evidence.

Then came the next punch. Kieran Townsend took a plea deal. Of course he did. That man never had a spine. The moment they offered him a lighter sentence, he rolled over like a dog. Started singing about everything. About the offshore accounts. About the payments. About the orders to kill Franklin.

I knew my name would have to come up definitely.

And Anthony? Anthony stopped answering my calls. Just stopped. Didn’t text back. Didn’t send an explanation. That’s when I knew for certain: I was expendable. When the men you’ve aligned yourself with start ghosting, it means they’re already in survival mode. It means they’re protecting themselves and forgetting everyone else.

It means I’m next.

I walked to the window and looked out at the grey Queens afternoon. Somewhere in Manhattan, Octavia was probably celebrating. Dorian was in custody. Her enemy was neutralized. She probably thought the war was over. She probably thought she’d won everything.

That what was left was to catch me.

The thing about being cornered is that it clarifies things. It makes you stop thinking about what you want and start thinking about what you need to do to survive. And survival meant I couldn’t stay in New York. I couldn’t wait around for the authorities to come knocking on my door. I couldn’t be caught, processed, and dissected like some low-level criminal.

I needed to disappear.

But I couldn’t just run. Running meant I’d spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. It meant living small, living quiet, living like I was nothing. And I’d already done that once before. I wasn’t going to do it again.

So I made a choice. I was going to stage my own death.

It took me two hours to decide on the details. Another hour to make a phone call to someone I hadn’t spoken to in five years. His name was Roderigo, and he owed me a favour from back when we were both younger and stupider and entangled in things we shouldn’t have been.

I called him from a phone I’d borrowed from the hotel front desk, pretending to be a guest asking about laundry services. The receptionist didn’t even blink.

"Roderigo," I said the moment he picked up. "It’s Bella Washington."

There was a long silence.

"Bella," he finally said. "That’s... wow. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you."

"I know. But I need something. And I need it now."

"What kind of something?"

I told him. Not the details, something small. I needed to disappear. I needed people to think I was dead. I needed it to be convincing enough that nobody would come looking for me.

"Jesus Christ, Bella," he said. "What did you do?"

"Nothing that concerns you. But I know you know people. People who can help make this happen without questions."

He was quiet for a long moment. Then: "I can make it work. But it’s going to cost."

I thought about it. For my life, I would spend my last money even if it is not willingly.

"I have money," I said. "I’ll pay whatever you need."

"Okay. Okay, I can do this. Give me forty-eight hours."

I hung up.

The next two days were surreal. I stayed in the hotel room. Ordered food to the room. Didn’t leave. Didn’t let anyone see me. Just waited.

On the evening of the second day, Roderigo showed up with a folder and a grim expression. Inside were photographs. A location. A plan. Everything I needed to make it look like Bella had taken the easy way out.

"There’s a bridge near New Rochelle," Marcus said. "Not a popular spot. A security camera that hasn’t worked in six months. I’ve already got someone who can drop some of your belongings there. A shoe. Your jacket. We’ll make it look like you jumped."

"What about identification?" I asked.

"That takes longer. They won’t find a body immediately. And when they finally do, decomposition will make things complicated. By the time they realize it’s not you, you’ll be long gone."

I nodded. It was perfect.

"How much?" I asked.

"Fifty thousand."

I transferred it. Didn’t blink. Money meant nothing if I was dead.

Three days later, I was on a bus heading south with a new ID, new papers, and a new look that wasn’t exactly my face anymore. I’d dyed my hair dark brown, cut it short. Bought cheap glasses. Wore clothes that didn’t fit right. The kind of woman nobody looks at twice.

The news hit while I was somewhere between Connecticut and Pennsylvania. I saw it on my phone, using a VPN and a burner device. "Woman Missing After Apparent Suicide Attempt." They found my jacket. They found my shoe. They found enough to make people believe that Bella Washington had finally cracked under the pressure and taken the leap.

I didn’t feel sad about it. I felt free.

I got off the bus in Charlotte, North Carolina. Rented a small apartment under my new name. Paid cash for everything. Kept my head down and stayed invisible.

And then I started gathering my tools for destruction.

I had connections. People who didn’t know I was supposed to be dead. People who would do what I asked if the price was right. People who understood that information was a weapon, and I was very, very good at weaponizing it.

Franklin and Octavia thought they were safe. They thought Dorian had been the threat. They thought they could go back to their lives and pretend everything was fine.

They had no idea what was coming.

I sat in my small apartment in Charlotte, looking at my files spread across a second-hand desk, and I smiled. The kind you only smile when you know you have power and you’re about to use it.

They were going to pay. Both of them. Franklin for discarding me like I was nothing. Octavia for having the audacity to win when I had been playing the game first.

They should have been ready.

But they weren’t.

And that was exactly how I wanted it.