Later that evening, Shane stood in front of the mirror, straightening her suit.
A sharp black blazer over a black silk shirt, the top two buttons undone to show just a hint of her tattoo. Slim-cut trousers, polished boots. Hair slicked back but tousled just enough to stay dangerous.
She looked like money—and sin.
May leaned against the doorframe, wearing a short backless red dress, her hair curled just enough to bounce with every step. Her heels clicked softly on the hardwood as she approached.
"I'm gonna need you to stop looking like a walking fantasy," she said, eyeing Shane's reflection.
Shane smirked. "Says the woman who just broke me last night and made sure Alexa watched."
May raised a brow, teasing. "You mad I stole the spotlight?"
"Not even a little." Shane turned, crowding May against the door, voice low and warm. "I like when you fight for me."
May bit her lip. "Good. Because I'm not done yet."
They kissed—slow and teasing—before Shane pulled away and whispered, "Let's give them something to really talk about tonight."
—
The party was one of those exclusive rooftop events—models, artists, rich nobodies with too much champagne and not enough shame.
Shane walked in with May on her arm, and the room practically shifted around them.
Men and women turned. Whispers started. Some admired. Some envied. Some… watched too closely.
One of them was Tara Lin, a tall, icy blonde in a dangerously tight black dress. An old "friend" of Shane's—by friend, May knew that meant complication.
And Tara was already walking toward them.
"Shane Kingston. You just keep leveling up, huh?" Tara said, lips smirking, eyes flicking to May. "And who's this firecracker?"
Shane slid her hand around May's waist tighter. "This is May. My date. And the reason I'm still smiling today."
Tara's smile faltered just a bit. "Well, that's new. You smiling."
May didn't even blink. She stepped forward, all confidence. "Hi, Tara. Heard a lot about you."
"I'm sure you have," Tara said sweetly. "I tend to leave impressions."
May leaned in, just a breath from her ear. "Not the kind that last, I'm guessing."
Tara pulled back, her expression cooling. But May was already turning to Shane. "Babe, let's grab champagne. You promised me dancing."
Shane chuckled. "You really do get jealous pretty."
"Not jealous," May said, brushing her lips against Shane's. "Just territorial."
—
Hours later, the music thumped, bodies danced, and Shane—after three glasses of Dom Pérignon—was finally laughing, relaxed, and tugging May close on the dance floor. They moved together like they were the only two people in the world.
And then her phone buzzed.
A message.
From an unknown number.
"I wonder how long she'll stay when she sees what you did before her."
Attached: A file.
Shane's blood turned cold.
She stepped away slightly, unlocking her phone and opening it.
It was a video.
Of her.
From over a year ago.
In bed—with Alexa.
Recorded secretly.
And worse—recently edited.
Shane's face drained of color.
"Everything okay?" May asked, stepping toward her, concern flickering in her voice.
Shane quickly locked the screen. "Yeah. Just business. I'll handle it."
But May saw it.
That moment. That flicker.
She knew something was wrong.
And as Shane tried to pretend nothing happened, May's own phone buzzed next.
From a fake profile: "You're not the only one who's ever had her."
May opened it.
And felt her stomach turn.
Because it wasn't just the video.
There were pictures.
Dozens.
Private. Painful. From a time Shane never talked about.
Alexa had started something.
Something public.
And dangerous.
And this time… she wasn't just targeting Shane.
She was going for both of them.
The Storm Beneath the Lights
The rooftop lights glittered overhead. Music pulsed through the air. The champagne in May's hand had long lost its sparkle.
Her fingers tightened around the glass as she stared at Shane.
Shane, who was barely keeping it together.
She had that look—shoulders stiff, eyes distant, lips pressed in a tight line. Like she wanted to disappear.
May stepped in close, her hand resting on Shane's chest, grounding her.
"Tell me what it was," she said softly. "The message. The video. Whatever it was… tell me."
Shane's throat bobbed.
She hesitated.
Her heartbeat thudded hard against May's palm.
"I… I can't," she said finally. "Not here."
"Then let's go."
"No. If we leave, she wins."
"She already started something, Shane," May snapped, her voice sharp but quiet. "Do you really want me finding out from someone else?"
Shane's jaw clenched.
She pulled May aside, away from the crowd, into a darker corner of the rooftop near the service door. The music dimmed behind them. The city lights flickered far below.
And that's when Shane handed her the phone.
"Watch it," she said flatly. "You need to know."
May opened the file.
It was pixelated at first, but then it focused—and she saw her.
Alexa.
In bed with Shane.
Older video, yes—but edited.
Shane's face was clear. Her moans were unedited. Her body—recognizable. Raw. Intimate. Exposed.
It wasn't just sex.
It looked like… love.
May's stomach twisted. Her fingers trembled slightly as she lowered the phone.
Shane wasn't looking at her.
She was staring at the floor, shame darkening her features.
"She recorded it without me knowing," she said quietly. "I swear to God, May, I never—"
"I believe you."
Shane's head shot up.
May's eyes didn't waver.
"I believe you," she repeated. "But this isn't just about your past anymore. She's not just trying to hurt you. She's coming for me."
Shane reached for her. "I'm sorry. I didn't know she was—"
"No," May said, voice hardening. "Don't apologize. Stand up."
"What?"
May stepped forward, grabbing the lapels of Shane's blazer and tugging her close.
May stepped forward, grabbing the lapels of Shane's blazer and tugging her close.
"She's scared," she whispered. "That's why she's doing this. You didn't just leave her, Shane. You healed. And that terrifies her."
Shane's breath caught.
And suddenly, May kissed her.
Hard.
In the shadowed corner of the rooftop, lips colliding, heat exploding between them.
She kissed her like no camera was watching. Like no lie could touch them. Like Shane was hers, and always would be.
And Shane—Shane melted into it.
She kissed May back like she needed it to breathe. Her hands slid around May's waist, gripping tight. Desperate. Grounded.
"I don't want to lose you," Shane whispered, forehead pressed to hers.
"You won't," May whispered back. "But you have to let me fight with you. Don't carry this alone anymore."
Shane nodded.
And then—
Click.
A phone camera.