Audrey's POV
The silence in the car was a thick, smothering blanket. I stared straight ahead, refusing to let my gaze linger on the back of their heads, on the familiar slope of their shoulders outlined against the headlights.
I can't believe this.
The shock is a delayed tremor, working its way through my bones. My mother. Priscilla. The woman who dumped me the second she could, is now Mrs. Moreno. Wife to the head of one of the most powerful family in this godforsaken city. The sheer, cosmic absurdity of it is almost funny. Almost.
And now I'm supposed to live with them. Under the same roof as these two.
My eyes flicked, against my will, to the rearview mirror. Dave's profile was sharp, focused on the road. In my world, he was a colleague. Quiet, brilliant, always in the corner of my eye during meetings. The one I'd sometimes catch looking at me with an expression I could never quite decipher. '
And Dominic... my neighbor. The guy with the easy smile who'd hold the elevator, whose music I could sometimes hear through the wall on lonely nights. Two faces from a life that feels like a dream now.
Handsome faces. Ones I'd admired, in that distant, private way you do when you think no one's watching.
I'd schooled my features into stone when they arrived at the gates, burying the recognition so deep I hoped it was invisible. But Dave... him slamming Spike's face into the car. That wasn't in the script. The Dave of this novel is a selfish, calculating user. He doesn't do knight-in-shining-armor acts. Unless...
The realization was a cold splash of water. Of course. He's a selfish man. He wouldn't stand for others trashing something he's decided belongs to him, even if he considers it garbage.
It wasn't protection. It was territorial. A dog pissing on a fence post. The heavy feeling in my chest tightened, the air in the luxury car growing thin and stale. I couldn't breathe here.
I looked out the window, clinging to the passing, grimy familiarity of my neighborhood. Then i noticed they were reaching my street.
"Stop the car."
Dave didn't even glance back. "Why?"
"We've reached my street. I need to leave."
Then his cold voice came in. "Didn't you hear me back there? You're our stepsister now. That means you live with us. I haven't accepted such an… embarrassing woman as my stepsister yet, so don't make this more difficult for me than it already is."
The insult was a needle meant to deflate. But it had the opposite effect.
"I don't need your approval," I said, my voice just as cold. "And I don't want to have any ties with you in the first place. Stop the car. Now."
He ignored me and didn't slow down.
"Suit yourself," I muttered.
I reached for the door handle and pulled. It didn't budge. Child locks. Of course.
From the front, Dave's voice was flat. "I'm not stupid enough to leave the doors unlocked."
"That's not going to stop me," I said calmly.
In one fluid motion, I unbuckled my own seatbelt and leaned forward between the two front seats. Dave was focused on the road. Before he could react, I grabbed the shoulder strap of his seatbelt where it anchored near his left shoulder. In a single, vicious yank, I pulled it across his chest and throat, wedging the buckle back into its lock on the other side. The belt was cinching him against the driver's seat, pressing into his neck.
He choked, a shocked, guttural sound. His hands flew off the wheel to claw at the strap. The car swerved violently.
"Hey—!" Dominic gasped, his face going pale as he grabbed the wheel to steady us.
I kept my grip on the belt, applying just enough pressure. My voice was a low. "If you touch me, I'll tighten it. Try me."
The car, now under Dominic's shaky control, began to slow, pulling toward the curb.
"Unlock the doors," I ordered Dominic, my eyes on the back of his head.
He didn't hesitate. I heard the sharp thunk of the central locks disengaging.
The second I heard it, I released the seatbelt, shoved the door open, and threw myself out of the moving car. I hit the pavement hard, the impact jarring up through my knees and palms. I rolled, the rough concrete scraping skin through my torn shirt.
I was on my feet in seconds, dusting off my hands, my heart hammering a wild, triumphant rhythm against my ribs.
The sleek black car had lurched to a full stop a few yards ahead. The driver's door flew open, and Dave stumbled out, coughing, one hand rubbing the red mark already forming on his neck. He looked at me with a mixture of rage and sheer disbelief.
"Are you crazy?" he rasped.
A few people on the sidewalk had stopped. A couple walking their dog stared openly, and some women more curious about the expensive car and the handsome, furious man.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," I stated, loud enough for the growing audience to hear. "If you try to force me again, I will call the police right now and accuse you of kidnapping?"
Dave's eyes darted to the neighbors, to Dominic who was still frozen in the passenger seat. The cool, calculating part of him I remembered reasserted itself over the anger. He lowered his hand from his neck, his expression smoothing into something colder.
"Fine. Play the runaway. But this isn't over." His gaze swept over my shabby street, my torn clothes, with palpable disdain. "I'll be back. You'd better have all your belongings packed before then."
He held my glare for another second then turned on his heel. He got back into the car, slammed the door, and a moment later, the vehicle purred to life and sped off, disappearing around the corner.
I stood there, breathing in the familiar, unglamorous air of my neighborhood. The adrenaline began to fade, leaving my scraped palms stinging and my knees aching. But I was here. I was free. For now.
Without looking back at the curious onlookers, I turned and walked, my steps steady and sure, down the cracked sidewalk toward my apartment building.
The climb up the stairs to my apartment felt longer than ever. Every muscle ached from the fight, the fall, the sheer tension of the last few hours. I finally shoved my key into the lock, stumbled inside, and let the door slam shut behind me, sealing me in the cramped, silent space.
I just slumped face-down onto the hard, narrow bed, the springs groaning in protest. The musty smell of the cheap mattress filled my nose. Home sweet home.
It hasn't even been two full days. Forty-eight hours ago, I was celebrating a career win. Now, I've publicly torched a wedding, discovered my absentee mother is a social-climbing queen, and gotten into a physical altercation with two men who are, somehow, the faces of my old life.
The plot of this novel wasn't just progressing. It was spiraling into a chaotic tornado, and I was stuck in the center.
But all of that was just noise. Underneath it, a cold, hard fear was settling in my stomach. The main question, the only one that truly mattered, clawed its way to the surface of my exhausted mind.
How do I get back to my real world?
A voice answered.
"To return, you must first give this world a happy ending by fulfilling all of your quests."
The voice was light, almost melodic. I jerked upright so fast my vision spun, my heart leaping into my throat.
I wasn't alone.
There, hovering in the middle of my dingy apartment, was... a person. Sort of. It was humanoid but cartoonish in its proportions, like a living doll, its entire form emitting a soft, ethereal glow. Four wings—translucent, sharp, and made of pure white light—spread from its back, casting shifting patterns on the peeling wallpaper.
My first, sleep-deprived thought was, I'm hallucinating. The stress has finally broken me.
Then my own logic caught up. This is a Fantasy romance novel that deals with Supernatural abilities. So i shouldn't be surprised.
I just stared, my body tense, every sense on high alert. "Who are you?"
The creature gave a small, formal nod. Its features were serene, expressionless. "I am Mia. I am your system guide. My purpose is to assist you in navigating this world."