Chapter 4 The storm begins

The shrill ring of Amelia's phone jerked her awake, a stray cat which she had thought was an intruder kept her awake almost all night, She groaned at the sight of the morning light through her cheap curtains. Her head pounded-a mix of too little sleep and the overwhelming weight of everything that had happened the night before.

Her phone vibrated again on the nightstand. Without checking the caller ID, she grabbed it and pressed it to her ear. "Hello?" Her voice was hoarse.

"Elena Rossi," came the clipped reply.

That woke Amelia up fast. She sat up, running a hand through her tangled hair. Elena Rossi wasn't just her agent-she was one of the only people in the industry who had taken a chance on her. If she was calling this early, it wasn't to check in.

"Elena," Amelia breathed, already bracing herself.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Elena's voice was sharp but controlled. "Amelia, you went after Adrian Sinclair. In public. Do you know how reckless that was?"

Amelia's stomach twisted. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, pressing a hand to her forehead. "I-"

"No, listen to me," Elena cut her off. "The media is on fire. Every entertainment blog, every talk show, every social media platform-your name is everywhere. People are already picking sides. Some are praising you for speaking up, but others-" She exhaled sharply. "Others are tearing you apart."

Amelia swallowed. "I didn't do this for attention."

"I know that." Elena's tone softened slightly, but only for a second. "But that doesn't change the fact that you're in the center of something huge. You need to be smart about what happens next."

Amelia stood up and started pacing, anxiety clawing at her chest. "What do I do?"

"First, you stay away from the press," Elena ordered. "No interviews, no statements, no social media posts. Nothing. Do you hear me? Let the storm play out. If you start defending yourself publicly, you're only going to fuel it."

Amelia nodded, even though Elena couldn't see her. "Okay."

"Good. Second, don't go anywhere alone. I don't care if it's just to get coffee-this story is fresh, and the paparazzi will be looking for you. They're going to ambush you, shove microphones in your face, twist your words. You can't give them anything to work with."

Amelia rubbed her temple. "So basically, I'm a prisoner?"

Elena sighed. "I know it's not fair. But welcome to the industry, sweetheart. It was already brutal before last night-now you're playing in the big leagues."

Amelia bit her lip. She wanted to argue, to say that all she'd done was stand up for her best friend. But deep down, she knew Elena was right.

"Are you with Rachel?" Elena asked suddenly.

Amelia glanced toward the other side of the room. Rachel was curled up on her bed, still asleep, her face turned toward the wall. "Yeah."

"Good. Keep her close. And Amelia?" Elena hesitated. "Are you absolutely sure about what happened?"

A flicker of unease passed through Amelia. "Of course I'm sure."

A pause. "Then you need to be ready," Elena said quietly. "Because Adrian Sinclair isn't the type of man to let something like this go."

A chill ran down Amelia's spine. She clutched the phone tighter. "I'll handle it."

"Let's hope you can," Elena murmured. "I'll call you later."

The line went dead.

Amelia lowered the phone slowly, staring at it as her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

She wasn't afraid of Adrian Sinclair.

But she had the sinking feeling she should be.

The apartment was eerily silent as Amelia ended the call with Elena Rossi. A heavy sigh left her lips as she sat on the edge of her bed, her mind swirling with everything Elena had just told her. The consequences of her actions were already unfolding, and the reality of it all felt suffocating.

Shaking off the weight pressing on her chest, she decided to check on Rachel. Stepping into Rachel's room, she found her best friend still curled up under the sheets, her face barely visible in the dim morning light. The slow rise and fall of Rachel's breathing told Amelia she was in deep sleep-exhaustion had finally caught up to her.

Amelia glanced at the bedside clock. 8:27 AM. She hadn't eaten anything the previous night, and hunger gnawed at her stomach. With a quick decision, she tiptoed out of the room, heading toward the small kitchen.

She grabbed a loaf of bread from the counter, then reached for a knife to slice it. Her hands were still shaky from lack of sleep, her thoughts tangled in Elena's warning.

Are you absolutely sure about what happened?

The words echoed in her head, rattling her, making her grip tighten around the knife.

Then-

A sharp sting.

She hissed, jerking her hand back, the knife clattering against the counter. A thin line of red welled up across her palm, beading quickly before a single drop splattered onto the cutting board.

Amelia sucked in a breath, pressing her uninjured hand against the wound. It wasn't deep, but the sight of her own blood sent a jolt of unease through her.

For a moment, she just stood there, staring at it.

Last night had already left her feeling raw and exposed, and now even the smallest things felt like warnings she wasn't prepared for.

She swallowed hard and grabbed a paper towel, wrapping it around her palm, she grabbed some eggs deciding on something quick and light, she manages to finish preparing breakfast as she moves around the kitchen, the quiet clatter of plates and the sizzle of eggs filled the space, momentarily distracting her from the chaos outside these four walls.

Just as she started digging into her breakfast, her phone buzzed beside her on the table. Expecting another news notification or a social media mention, she reluctantly picked it up. But when she saw the email subject line, her breath quickens.