Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The women's shelter smelled of bleach and sadness. Mona stood in line, arms wrapped around herself, still wearing her ruined designer dress.

"Name?" The intake worker barely looked up from her computer.

"Mona... Lowes," she said, stopping herself from using her real name. Emily had connections everywhere.

"First time homeless?"

Homeless. The word hit Mona like a physical blow. Yesterday she'd lived in a mansion.

"Take a shower token. Clean clothes are in the bin. No designer stuff allowed here, attracts the wrong attention."

The shower room was basic, cracked tiles, rusty pipes. She peeled off her ruined dress. Five thousand dollars, that dress had cost. Now it was garbage.

The donated clothes were old but clean: faded jeans, a stretched-out t-shirt, worn sneakers. Everything slightly too big, making her feel smaller.

"Bed 47," the worker told her. "Lights out at 10. No exceptions."

The dormitory was crowded, filled with coughing and quiet crying. Women of all ages lay on narrow cots, some staring at nothing, others curled into tight balls of misery.

"First night's the hardest."

Mona looked up. The woman in the next bed was older, her face weathered but kind.

"I'm Rose," she said. "Been here three months."

"Does it... does it get easier?"

Rose's smile was sad. "No. But you get stronger."

That night, Mona couldn't sleep. Every sound made her jump. Around midnight, someone stole her sneakers.

Morning came too soon. Everyone out by 8 AM, no exceptions.

"But... where am I supposed to go?" Mona asked Rose.

"Library's good. Warm, free bathrooms. Just don't fall asleep or they'll kick you out."

Mona walked barefoot through the streets, trying to look invisible. The library opened at 9. She found a quiet corner and sank into a chair, her feet throbbing.

But what could she do? Emily's influence ran deep in this city. Her stomach growled. When was the last time she'd eaten?

"Can't stay here all day, miss." A security guard's voice startled her. "This isn't a hotel."

Back on the streets. The sun was brutal, the pavement hot under her bare feet. People walked around her like she was invisible.

She found a McDonald's and scraped together enough change for a small coffee. The cashier's eyes lingered on her bare feet but said nothing.

A group of business women passed. One looked familiar, Jennifer from her old yoga class.

"Jennifer!" Mona called out. "It's me, Mona..."

Jennifer looked right through her and kept walking.

The day dragged on. Mona's feet were bleeding now, cut by sidewalk debris. A cop car cruised by, slowing near her. Mona's heart raced. Had Emily sent them? But they moved on.

By late afternoon, she was dizzy with hunger. Her feet left bloody prints on the sidewalk. A woman stopped her, pressed a dollar into her hand. "God bless."

The first time anyone had spoken to her all day, and it was pity.

Huddled in an alley, Mona's mind drifted to her childhood, to the massive empty house that had everything except love.

"Miss Smith cannot play with those children," her nanny would say. "They're not... suitable companions."

Her parents were always busy, meetings, business trips, galas. They loved her, but love came in expensive gifts and brief kisses goodnight.

"Daddy, can't you stay?" she'd ask. "Just for one story?"

"Princess, you know Daddy has work," he'd say, already checking his phone. "Maybe tomorrow."

Tomorrow never came.

Mona's earliest memories were of watching other families through the car window. She'd see mothers walking their children, holding hands, laughing. Something inside her would ache.

At school, she was the girl no one wanted to befriend. Too rich, too different, too lonely.

Her tenth birthday party was a perfect example. The ballroom transformed into a fairy tale, with ice sculptures and a carousel. But only three children showed up, all from wealthy families.

"Smile, Mona," her mother had whispered. "The photographer is watching."

She'd stopped asking for birthday parties after that.

She remembered the first time she met Samuel, at a campus coffee shop. How quickly he'd zeroed in on her. How perfectly he'd played to her insecurities.

"You're different from the other girls here," he'd told her. "More real."

Looking back, she could see all the red flags. But back then, all she'd felt was relief. Finally, someone saw her.

Their first kiss happened in the library. "I've wanted to do that since the first day I saw you," he'd whispered.

Now, sitting in the cold alley, Mona touched her lips. Had any of it been real?

She should have wondered why someone like Samuel would spend so much time in a tiny campus coffee shop. Should have questioned why he'd chosen that particular semester for extra classes.

Should have asked why he never talked about his family.

The first time she met Emily Caldwell was three months into their relationship. The whole evening was a master class in subtle cruelty.

"You seem... sweet," Emily had said, the word dripping with disdain.

Had Samuel planned it all from the beginning? Had Emily been in on it too?

The night stretched out before her, dark and cold. But for the first time since that morning in the coffee shop, Mona saw things clearly.

Samuel hadn't been her fairy tale prince. He'd been the wolf in disguise.

** ***

The shelter line started forming at 6. Mona joined it, swaying with fatigue.

"No shoes, no entry," the new intake worker said. "Health code."

Rose appeared behind her. "Here," she said, offering old flip-flops. "Always keep a spare pair."

But bed 47 was taken.

"You left stuff?" the worker asked when Mona protested. "First rule, never leave anything behind."

Rose shared her cot that night, both of them cramped but warm.

"Tomorrow," Rose whispered, "I'll show you where to get food. Real food, not garbage."

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because someone helped me once. That's how we survive."

Mona stared at the ceiling. A woman was praying softly in Spanish. Someone else was crying.

She thought of Emily and Samuel celebrating in their mansion. Drinking champagne while she lay here, hungry and bruised.

"They think they've destroyed me," she whispered.

Rose squeezed her hand. "Then prove them wrong."

But how? She had nothing. Was nothing.

No. She had something they couldn't take. She had rage.

Because the Caldwells had made one huge mistake. They'd left her alive.

*** **

"You have experience as a waitress?" The diner manager looked skeptical.

"Yes," Mona said quickly. "Three years during college."

"Well, we need someone for the night shift. When can you start?"

Hope fluttered in Mona's chest. "Tonight. I can start tonight."

The manager nodded, reaching for forms. "Just need to run a background check and...."

His phone rang. Mona's heart sank as his face changed.

"I see... Yes, Mrs. Caldwell... No, of course not... Thank you for letting me know."

He hung up and wouldn't meet her eyes. "Position's been filled."

Emily. Always Emily.

It was the same story everywhere she applied. Always followed by a phone call. Always ending with that same look of discomfort.

"Try the warehouse district," Rose suggested. "Cash jobs, no questions asked."

So Mona tried. She stood in line with other desperate people at 5 AM, hoping to be picked for day labor. The foreman took one look at her soft hands and picked others.

She tried cleaning houses, but agencies needed ID and references. She tried dog walking, but clients got calls from Emily about her "history of theft."

Emily's web of influence seemed endless.

One day, Mona thought she'd finally caught a break. A small bookstore, far from the wealthy parts of town. The owner was elderly, didn't care about her background.

"Start tomorrow," he said. "Nine sharp."

Mona arrived early, eager to prove herself. But the store was dark. A sign on the door: "CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS, NEW MANAGEMENT COMING SOON"

Through the window, she saw the owner packing books, his shoulders slumped. Emily hadn't just blocked her,she'd bought the whole store.

Mona tried everything. Housekeeping at small motels. Dishwashing in basement kitchens. Each time, Emily's influence reached out like a poisoned web.

The worst was the bakery. For three glorious days, Mona had worked there, learning to knead bread and frost cupcakes.

Then the health inspectors came. Daily. The tax auditors followed. The licensing board found "problems."

On the fourth day, Mrs. Kim was in tears. "So sorry," she said, pressing a bag of day-old pastries into Mona's hands. "Cannot fight them. Too strong."

The next week, Mona tried a different town, thinking maybe Emily's influence had limits. It didn't. She made it through half a shift at a local cafe before the owner got a call.

Back at the shelter, Rose helped her make a list of jobs that paid cash. It was a short list, and none of the options were good.

"There's always the street corner," one woman suggested. "Men don't care who you used to be."

Mona thought of her designer clothes, her perfect manners, her MBA. Now she was discussing prostitution as a viable option.

No. She wouldn't let Emily push her that far.

Weeks passed. Mona's borrowed clothes grew looser as meals became irregular. She stopped counting rejections after fifty. Stopped hoping after a hundred.

One morning, desperate, she tried the Caldwell Industries building itself. Just to clean offices at night.

The security guard recognized her. "Mrs. Caldwell said to call the police if you ever showed up."

Mona ran until her lungs burned, until fancy buildings gave way to warehouses and worn shops.

That's when she saw it. A "Help Wanted" sign in a dusty window.

Inside, an ancient Chinese man sat behind a cluttered desk.

"You need job?"

Mona nodded, too tired to hope.

"Emily Caldwell try to stop you?"

She stared at him, surprised. "You know Emily?"

He spat to the side. "Everyone know Emily. She try shut down my father's business thirty years ago. Fail then. Still failing."

"You work here. Cash only. No papers. No questions."

"What's the job?"

"Sort papers. Clean office. Learn things."

"Learn what things?"

His smile was sharp. "Learn how Emily Caldwell destroy people. Learn how to destroy back."

Mona should have been shocked. Should have walked away. Instead, she sat down.

"When do I start?"

Behind his desk, she noticed something interesting. A familiar company name on an old document.

Smith Industries. Her father's company.

The old man saw her looking. "Ah," he said. "You recognize. Good. Very good."

"Did you know my father?"

"Know many things. Tell you when time right."

He handed her a key. "Come tomorrow. Early. Much to learn."

Mona clutched the key, remembering other keys. The one to her father's office. The one to the Caldwell mansion.

But this key felt different. This key felt like power.