Chapter 2 - The Picture That Changed Everything
Hazel did not take the subway.
She called her roommate, Tessa, and asked her to meet her two blocks away from their apartment with an umbrella and a lie.
“A lie?” Tessa asked sleepily.
“Yes.”
“What kind of lie?”
“Any lie that gets you outside quickly.”
Tessa arrived twenty minutes later wearing pajamas beneath a winter coat.
The second she saw Hazel’s wet hair, torn sleeve, and frightened expression, she stopped making jokes.
“What happened?”
“I kissed a stranger.”
Tessa stared.
“That is not usually an emergency.”
“He is Luca Romano.”
Tessa’s face went blank.
“The Luca Romano?”
“Yes.”
“The one who owns half of Manhattan?”
“Allegedly.”
“The one who had that city councilman resign after a single meeting?”
“Allegedly.”
“The one people say had a Russian smuggler disappear from a yacht?”
Hazel looked at her.
“I do not need a list.”
Tessa grabbed her arm.
“We are not going home.”
“Where else would we go?”
“My cousin lives in Queens.”
Hazel looked down the street toward their building.
Across from it, a black sedan sat beneath a dead streetlamp.
Its windows were dark.
A man inside lifted a phone to his ear.
Hazel’s stomach dropped.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Queens.”
They spent the night at Tessa’s cousin’s apartment, where Hazel lay awake on a narrow couch while every sound outside made her flinch.
At six in the morning, her phone began vibrating.
Messages.
Dozens of them.
Some came from coworkers.
Some came from strangers.
Some came from social media accounts Hazel did not recognize.
Then she saw why.
A photograph had been posted online.
It showed Hazel climbing into Luca Romano’s booth at the Monarch. Her hands were gripping his lapels. His hand was at the back of her neck. The nightclub lights made everything look reckless, intimate, and cinematic.
The caption read:
WHO IS THE WOMAN WHO KISSED LUCA ROMANO?
Hazel felt sick.
Within hours, gossip accounts had identified her as a nursing student and cocktail server.
Someone had posted the name of the Monarch nightclub.
Someone else had posted a blurry photo of her leaving NYU’s nursing building.
The comments were worse.
Gold digger.
Mafia girlfriend.
Lucky waitress.
She planned it.
Hazel threw her phone onto the couch.
“I did not plan anything.”
Tessa sat beside her.
“I know.”
“But nobody else does.”
At ten that morning, Hazel received a call from the hospital.
Her mother, Diane Brooks, had collapsed during an outpatient treatment session.
Hazel’s fear became immediate and physical.
She rushed to New York-Presbyterian, her mind spinning with possibilities. Her mother had been fighting lymphoma for nearly two years. The treatments had drained their savings, their energy, and every bit of optimism Hazel tried to carry.
When Hazel reached the hospital, she found Diane awake but exhausted.
“I’m okay,” her mother whispered.
“You scared me.”
“I got dizzy.”
“You need to tell them when you feel sick.”
Diane smiled weakly.
“You sound like a nurse already.”
Hazel sat beside her.
Then she noticed the private room.
The better monitors.
The additional nurse outside the door.
“This is not your usual room.”
Diane’s smile faded.
“A man came earlier.”
Hazel went cold.
“What man?”
“He said he was from a charity organization.”
Hazel stood.
“What did he say?”
“He said my treatment was being moved under a special assistance program.”
Hazel stared at her mother.
“Did he give you a name?”
Diane reached toward the bedside table.
There was a white card.
ROMANO MEDICAL OUTREACH.
Hazel felt anger rise so quickly she almost could not breathe.
Luca Romano had found her mother.
He had found her hospital.
He had decided he could enter Hazel’s life with money and security as if she were a problem he could solve.
She left the hospital and went straight to the Monarch.
The daytime manager looked alarmed when she stormed through the front entrance.
“Hazel, you are not scheduled.”
“I need to see Mr. Romano.”
The manager looked around nervously.
“You cannot just—”
“Then call him.”
“Hazel—”
“Call him.”
Twenty minutes later, a black car appeared outside.
Marco stepped out.
“Mr. Romano will see you.”
Hazel climbed into the car without hesitation.
The vehicle carried her downtown to a glass tower overlooking the river.
Luca’s office occupied the top floor.
It was quiet, elegant, and almost unnervingly simple. No gold statues. No dramatic paintings. Only dark wood, bookshelves, and windows that made Manhattan look small beneath him.
Luca stood near the glass with his back to her.
“You should not have left the hospital alone.”
Hazel stopped.
“You had someone watching me?”
“I had someone making sure you were safe.”
“You sent people to my mother.”
“I sent doctors.”
“You had no right.”
Luca turned.
His face was calm, but his eyes were not.
“Your mother needs treatment.”
“She needs medical care, not favors from a man whose enemies may be watching her.”
His expression changed.
“Has anyone approached her?”
“I do not know.”
“I will find out.”
“I do not want you finding out anything.”
Hazel stepped closer.
“You do not get to make decisions about my family because I kissed you for ten seconds in a nightclub.”
Luca’s gaze sharpened.
“It was not ten seconds.”
Hazel stared at him.
“That is what you heard?”
“No,” he said quietly. “That is what I remembered.”
The room fell silent.
Hazel hated the heat that rose into her face.
She hated that part of her remembered it too—the warmth of his mouth, his hand in her hair, the strange way the world had disappeared for one reckless moment.
But she was not going to let attraction make her foolish.
Not again.
“Undo the hospital arrangement,” she said.
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“No?”
“No one should have to choose between treatment and rent. Your mother will receive care.”
“You cannot buy your way into my life.”
“I am not trying to buy you.”
“Then what are you trying to do?”
For the first time, Luca looked away.
When he answered, his voice was lower.
“Keep you alive long enough to hate me properly.”
Hazel’s anger paused.
Then Marco entered the office without knocking.
“Mr. Romano.”
Luca turned.
“What?”
“We have a problem.”
Marco looked directly at Hazel.
“The Russian who was in the club last night has been found dead.”
Hazel’s face went pale.
May you like
Marco continued.
“And his phone contained photographs of Hazel Brooks.”
