Chapter 3 The Blacklist

The morning after the divorce felt like waking up in a body that didn't belong to me. My eyes were crusty, my throat was parched, and for a terrifying five seconds, I forgot everything. Then, I saw the empty space on my ring finger-a pale line of skin where my wedding band used to sit-and the weight of Julian's betrayal crashed back down, suffocating me.

I didn't have time to mourn. Not yet. I had exactly eight hundred dollars in my checking account and a mountain of student loans that Julian had "generously" stopped paying the moment I signed those papers.

I spent three hours perfecting my resume, removing any mention of the "private consulting" I'd done for Vane Group. I was a top graduate of St. Jude's Academy. I was a scholarship kid who had fought for every inch of my education. Surely, that counted for something.The first interview was at Loring & Associates, a prestigious firm in the heart of the financial district. The lobby was all marble and glass, smelling of expensive lilies and success.

"Miss Thorne? Mr. Henderson will see you now," the receptionist said with a polite smile.

For twenty minutes, the interview was a dream. Henderson was impressed. "Your analysis of the tech-sector volatility is some of the sharpest I've seen from someone your age," he said, leaning back in his leather chair. "I think you'd be a perfect fit for our junior associate program. Let's just get your ID on file for the formal background check."

I handed over my driver's license, my heart fluttering with a tiny spark of hope.

Henderson scanned the ID. He looked at his computer screen. Then, the smile vanished.It didn't just fade; it died. He looked at the phone on his desk, which had just blinked with a silent notification.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice suddenly sounding like he was reciting a funeral dirge. "There's been an error. This position was actually filled... five minutes ago. Internally."

"Five minutes ago?" I echoed, my voice small. "But you just said-"

"I'm busy, Miss Thorne. Please show yourself out."

The same thing happened at the second firm. And the third. By 4:00 PM, the pattern was undeniable. I was walking out of a mid-sized boutique firm, my heels clicking hollowly on the pavement, when a familiar silver Porsche pulled up to the curb.

The window rolled down, revealing the face of Blake Sterling. He was one of the "Kings of St. Jude's," a man who had spent three years laughing at my "poverty" while secretly trying to get me into bed behind Julian's back.

"Still trying to find a seat at the table, Maya?" he drawled, his eyes raking over my thrifted blazer with a sneer.

"What do you want, Blake?" I hissed, clutching my briefcase to my chest.

"I just wanted to see if the rumors were true. Word around the club is that Julian put a 'Red Flag' on your name across every HR department in the city." He hopped out of the car, leaning against the door with a cruel grin. "He didn't even have to say much. Just a little whisper that you were a 'thief' who tried to embezzle from the Vane estate. Who's going to hire a thief, Maya?"My blood turned to ice. "I never touched a cent of his money."

"Doesn't matter. In this city, Julian's word is gospel, and yours is trash." Blake stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, predatory hum. "He's waiting, you know. He told us you'd last about forty-eight hours before you realized you can't even buy a sandwich without his permission. He's got that settlement check on his desk. All you have to do is go to him, apologize for being 'difficult,' and sign the NDA. Maybe if you're sweet enough, he'll let you keep that pathetic little apartment."

I didn't wait for him to finish. I turned and ran. I didn't stop until I was inside my studio apartment, the door triple-locked behind me.

The darkness of the room swallowed me. I didn't turn on the lights. I didn't eat. I just sat on the floor, the cold hardwood seeping into my bones, and I cried. I cried for the girl who thought she had escaped her past. I cried for the woman who realized her husband was now her executioner. I cried until the moon crossed the sky and the sun began to peek through the blinds, leaving me hollow, exhausted, and utterly defeated.