Hazel returned from the charity gala with her head spinning and her feet aching—but her heart oddly light.
Until the next morning.
When she opened the front door to find a tall, blonde woman in designer sunglasses leaning against Adrian's black Porsche like it was hers.
"Erin," the woman drawled, removing her shades. "Well, well. You've changed."
Hazel blinked. "Sorry. Do I… know you?"
The woman smirked. "Ouch. That hurts."
She held out a perfectly manicured hand.
"Madison Clark. Bestie. Bridesmaid. Wing-woman. Frenemy, depending on the year."
Hazel's stomach dropped.
Memories—Erin's memories—flashed like glitchy film reels. Laughter at a rooftop bar. Screaming matches over shoes. Crying in a bathroom stall after a betrayal too complicated to name.
Right.
Madison.
Trouble in Louboutin heels.
"Madison," Hazel said carefully. "It's been a while."
Madison's eyes narrowed slightly. "Mmm-hmm. Long enough for you to go from raging diva to… domestic goddess? What gives?"
Hazel laughed awkwardly. "People grow."
"Not you," Madison shot back with a grin. "You used to throw a tantrum if your latte had the wrong foam."
Hazel didn't answer.
Madison leaned in, voice softening. "Look, I don't care what happened. Amnesia? Enlightenment? Ayahuasca in Bali? Just… don't lose your bite. You're Erin freaking Lancaster."
Hazel straightened. "Thanks for the reminder."
Madison winked. "Anytime, darling."
She turned to leave—then paused.
"Oh, by the way," she added over her shoulder. "Saw Adrian at the gala last night. First time in ages he didn't look like a walking brick wall. If I didn't know better… I'd think he actually likes you now."
Hazel's smile twitched.
Madison tapped her temple. "Careful. You might start liking him back."
And with that, she vanished into a matte black sports car, tires humming like a warning.
⸻
Later that night, Hazel stood in front of the vanity, staring at Erin's reflection in the mirror.
Or what used to be Erin.
She didn't wear the same makeup anymore.
Didn't walk with the same venom in her step.
Didn't yell, didn't scheme, didn't destroy.
She just… lived.
Loved, maybe.
She didn't know.
Yet.
But something about Madison's words clung to her like perfume she didn't remember spraying.
Did Adrian like her?
Did she want him to?
⸻
Across the house, Adrian was in his study.
Staring at the letters again.
The ones he never opened.
He reached for the top envelope.
Paused.
And closed the drawer.
Not yet.
Not until he knew which Erin was writing to him now.