Chapter 10You're Next

Vera's legs carried her into Morgan's apartment on autopilot. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing out the sirens and the cold dawn. She stood in the middle of the living room, still holding her phone, the anonymous text burning a hole through her palm.

*You're next, Unraveler.*

Morgan touched her elbow. “Let me see.”

Vera pulled away. “No. You've seen enough. You've done enough.” Her voice came out flat, hollow. “I should go. Before—”

“Before what? Before you drag me into something worse?” Morgan moved around to face her. “I'm already in it. I put myself here.”

“That's the problem.” Vera finally looked at her. Morgan's face was pale, shadows carved deep under her eyes. The woman who'd spent years hunting her, who'd unraveled her secrets one by one, now looked fragile in the gray morning light. “You don't get to choose to be in this. You don't get to sacrifice yourself for me. I won't let you be another person I destroy.”

Morgan's jaw tightened. She crossed to her desk, pulled out a folder, and held it up. “I called a lawyer. Before we went to the police. She specializes in cases involving—well, women like us. Women who've done things they regret.”

“A lawyer.” Vera stared at the folder. “You planned this.”

“I planned for every outcome.” Morgan set the folder on the coffee table. “If you want to turn yourself in, we do it on your terms. Controlled. With someone who can protect what's left of your life.”

Vera wanted to argue. Wanted to walk out the door and disappear into the city she'd manipulated for years. But her feet wouldn't move. Her chest felt cracked open, all the guilt she'd buried for Lily spilling out like smoke.

“I don't deserve protection,” she whispered.

Morgan didn't answer with words. She just stood there, folder in hand, waiting. The silence stretched until Vera's shoulders dropped.

“Fine.” The word tasted like defeat. “But I'm not dragging you into a safe house. I'll find my own—”

The door slammed open.

Julian Hartley stood in the doorway, coat unbuttoned, tie loose around his neck. His eyes were wild, fixed on Vera with a hatred that made her stomach clench.

“You.” He stepped inside, letting the door swing shut. “Elena called me from the precinct. Told me everything before they locked her up. The Hartley project. Lily Chen. The whole sick game.”

Vera's mouth went dry. “Julian—”

“Don't.” He held up a hand. “Don't you dare say my name. You destroyed my engagement. You used my sister. You—” His voice cracked. “You're the reason Lily is dead. Elena told me how you used her. How you sent her to confront me.”

Vera opened her mouth to defend herself, but no words came. Because he was right. She had used Lily. She had sent her into that situation. The rest—Elena's manipulation, the fall—that was Elena's sin. But she'd lit the match.

“Julian.” Morgan stepped between them. “Listen to me. Vera didn't kill Lily. Elena did. And Vera helped me bring her down.”

“Bring her down?” Julian laughed, bitter and sharp. “You helped a con artist frame her client. You chose her over your own family.” He looked at Morgan like she was a stranger. “Elena told me you knew. From the beginning. You knew who she was, and you still—Morgan, she's *The Unraveler*. She ruins people for money.”

“She's also the woman who lost her sister,” Morgan said quietly. “The woman who's trying to make it right. I saw what Elena did to her. I saw the evidence. And I chose to help her because it was the right thing.”

“The right thing?” Julian's voice rose. “The right thing would have been to walk away. To let the police handle it. But you couldn't, could you? You had to play detective. You had to get close to her. You had to—” He stopped, something breaking in his face. “You're dying, Morgan. Did you think I didn't notice? The headaches. The doctor's appointments. The way you've been saying goodbye to everyone.”

Morgan's mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“I found your MRI results in your desk last month.” Julian's voice dropped to a whisper. “I've been waiting for you to tell me. But instead, you spent your last months chasing a ghost and falling for a criminal.”

“Julian.” Morgan's voice shook. “I was going to tell you. I just—I needed time.”

“Time you wasted on her.” He pointed at Vera. “She's not worth your last days. She's not worth anything.”

Vera's lungs seized. She'd heard those words before. From Lily's voicemail, the night she died. *You're not worth this, Vera. You're not worth anything.*

“Get out,” Morgan said, her voice steel. “Both of you. This is my apartment, and I need space.”

Julian's face went white. “Are you choosing her? After everything?”

“I'm choosing to finish what I started.” Morgan crossed to the door and opened it. “Call me when you're ready to talk. But not tonight.”

Julian stood frozen for a long moment. Then he turned to Vera, his eyes empty. “You've won. Congratulations. You've taken everything I had.” He walked out, leaving the door half-open.

Morgan closed it gently. The lock clicked into place.

They stood in silence. The clock on the wall ticked. Somewhere in the building, a dog barked.

“I should go,” Vera said finally. “Before I take anything else.”

“Where would you go?” Morgan asked. “Your apartment? The anonymous sender knows where you live. They sent a photo.”

Vera's phone buzzed.

She looked down. Another message from the unknown number. This time, a photo. Her apartment building, taken from across the street. The timestamp: five minutes ago.

Her stomach dropped.

“They're outside my place,” she said. “Watching.”

Morgan grabbed her bag. “Then we go to my safe house. It's in Queens. No one knows about it except my lawyer.”

“Morgan, no. You've done enough. If something happens to you because of me—”

“Then I'll die doing something that matters.” Morgan's voice cracked, but her eyes were steady. “I've spent months preparing for an ending I can't control. Let me control this one. Let me help you.”

Vera's throat closed. She wanted to say no. Wanted to run. But the photo was still on her screen, and the threat was real, and Morgan was looking at her like she was worth saving.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Morgan nodded and turned to grab a jacket from the closet. Vera's phone buzzed a third time.

Unknown number.

She opened the message.

*Packed yet? I'll wait.*

Vera's stomach lurched. She looked up at Morgan, then back at the window. The curtains were drawn. But someone was watching.

Someone knew everything.

Morgan's hand found hers, warm and steady. “We need to leave. Now.”

They moved toward the door, but Vera's phone rang. Not a text. A call. The same unknown number.

She answered without thinking.

A voice, low and familiar. “I know where you're going, Vera. The Queens house. I'll see you soon.”

The line went dead.