Chapter 2: The $90,000 Secret
I expected Adrian Kane to disappear.
People like him always did.
They took what they needed and left behind nothing but memories and questions.
But at sunrise, a black car stopped beside the abandoned building where I slept.
I almost ran.
Then the window lowered.
Adrian was sitting inside.
A clean bandage covered the wound beneath his expensive suit.
“Get in,” he said.
I stared at him.
“No.””
His eyebrow lifted.
“No?””
“I helped you. That doesn’t mean I owe you anything.””
A small smile appeared on his face.
“You really have no idea who you’re talking to, do you?””
“No.””
“That’s refreshing.””
The driver opened the door.
“I’m taking you somewhere.””
“Where?””
“A salon.””
I laughed.
I couldn’t help it.
A salon?
I looked at my torn jacket and dirty hands.
“Mr. Kane, I think you’re confused.””
“I’m not.””
“I haven’t had a real haircut in years.””
“I know.””
“And you still want to take me?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
His expression softened.
“Because someone convinced you that you didn’t deserve to be treated like a person.””
I looked away.
Nobody had spoken to me like that in years.
Not with anger.
Not with disgust.
Just sadness.
The salon was in Manhattan.
Not the kind of place where people walked in.
The kind of place where people were invited.
The marble floors reflected my ruined appearance. My hair dragged behind me like a dark blanket.
Every person inside stopped.
A woman near the entrance covered her mouth.
A wealthy man wearing a designer jacket looked me up and down.
Then he said the words I had heard my whole life.
“Why is she here?””
The manager rushed over.
“Mr. Kane, we weren’t expecting—”
Adrian stepped beside me.
“Her name is Wren.””
The entire room went silent.
The manager immediately changed his tone.
“Of course.””
Adrian placed a black envelope on the counter.
The manager looked inside.
His face changed.
“What is this?””
“$90,000.””
Nobody spoke.
Adrian looked at him.
“Close the salon. Take care of her.””
I grabbed his sleeve.
“You don’t have to do this.””
He looked down.
“You saved my life.””
“That doesn’t mean—”
“Let me do something for yours.””
For a moment, I forgot how to respond.
The stylist who approached me was named Daniel. Unlike everyone else, he didn’t look disgusted.
He looked curious.
“Wren,” he said gently, “how long has your hair been like this?””
I touched the tangled strands.
“I don’t remember.””
Daniel carefully examined the knots.
His face became serious.
“This isn’t just tangled hair.””
“What do you mean?””
“There are years trapped in here.””
I looked at the floor.
“I suppose there are.””
He picked up the scissors.
My entire body stiffened.
“No.””
Daniel stopped.
“What?””
“No cutting.””
Adrian immediately stepped closer.
“Nobody touches her unless she agrees.””
I looked at him.
He wasn’t pretending.
He meant it.
Daniel lowered the scissors.
“Wren, why are you afraid?””
I swallowed.
“Because people recognize me.””
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
“Who are you hiding from?””
The question hit harder than he realized.
Images flashed through my mind.
Fire.
Smoke.
A woman screaming.
A man’s hand pulling something from my neck.
A voice whispering:
“Run.””
I closed my eyes.
“I don’t know.””
Adrian watched me carefully.
Then I whispered:
“Cut it.””
Daniel began slowly removing the knots.
Chunks of damaged hair fell onto the white floor.
With every piece that dropped, I felt like I was losing a part of myself.
Then suddenly—
The scissors stopped.
Daniel stepped backward.
“Mr. Kane.””
Adrian turned.
“What?””
Daniel moved my remaining hair behind my left ear.
His face had lost all color.
“You need to see this.””
Adrian walked closer.
Then he froze.
May you like
Because beneath years of dirt and tangled hair was a small crescent-shaped birthmark.
And Adrian Kane looked like he had just seen a ghost.
