Lola’s POV

The city was the same.

Bright. Loud. Merciless.

But to me?

It was no longer home.

New York had turned its back on me five years ago—the moment Freddy and Aliana took everything.

Now, I am back.

Not as a queen.

But as a ghost, waiting to haunt the people who destroyed me.

The cab smelled like stale cigarettes and cheap cologne, the worn leather seats cracked from years of overuse. The driver barely acknowledged us, his tired eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Good.

The last thing I needed was some nosy cabbie remembering our faces.

I sat with my arms crossed, staring out the window as...