The rain started before the screaming.
Elara Quinn hated rain at night.
It swallowed sound. It blurred vision. It turned headlights into ghosts.
She had just finished her shift at the café, exhaustion clinging to her skin like a second coat. The street was nearly empty — the wealthy side of the city always went quiet after ten. Large estates hid behind iron gates. Security lights glowed like watchful eyes.
She pulled her jacket tighter and stepped off the curb.
That was when she heard it.
A sharp metallic shriek.
Tires screaming.
A horn blaring too long.
Then—
Impact.
The sound didn't just echo.
It split the night open.
Elara's body froze before her mind could catch up. A black luxury car had spun across the wet road, slamming violently into a concrete divider. The front crumpled inward like paper. Smoke began to curl into the rain.
For a moment, there was nothing.
No movement.
No voices.
Just the rain.
Then instinct took over.
She ran.
Her shoes splashed through puddles as she reached the wreck. The driver's side was crushed. The windshield fractured like a spider's web. Airbags hung deflated.
Inside—
A woman.
Older. Elegant even in ruin. Blood traced a thin line down her temple, mixing with rainwater leaking through broken glass.
"Elara, move. Call someone. Do something."
Her hands trembled as she yanked her phone from her pocket and dialed emergency services.
"It's—there's been an accident," she choked. "Black sedan, Vale Avenue, near the east divider. She's not moving. Please hurry."
The operator's voice sounded far away.
As she leaned closer to the window, the injured woman's eyes fluttered.
They met.
For a split second.
The woman's lips parted, as if trying to speak.
Elara leaned closer, heart hammering.
"What? What is it?"
The woman's fingers twitched weakly.
And then—
Her gaze shifted.
Past Elara.
Into the darkness behind her.
Fear.
Pure, sharp fear.
Elara felt it before she understood it.
She turned slowly.
Across the street, partially hidden by shadow and rain, stood another car.
Engine running.
Headlights off.
Watching.
Her breath caught.
The figure inside was impossible to see clearly, but she felt it — the weight of being observed.
Then the car drove off.
Smooth. Controlled. Unhurried.
As if it had been waiting.
When Elara turned back, the woman's chest no longer moved.
The rain kept falling.
Sirens arrived minutes later, but it felt like hours. Police lights painted the street in violent red and blue flashes.
They pulled Elara away from the wreck.
"Did you see what happened?"
"I—I heard it first. The car lost control."
"Was anyone else there?"
Her mind flashed to the shadowed vehicle.
She hesitated.
"I… I think so."
The officers exchanged a look.
Think.
Not sure.
Unreliable.
She swallowed. "There was another car. Across the street."
"Did you see the plate?"
"No."
"The driver?"
"No."
Her voice sounded small.
Weak.
Rainwater dripped from her hair as they took her statement. Cameras from nearby mansions were mentioned. Traffic footage would be reviewed. It would be clear by morning.
It had to be.
Then one officer's radio crackled.
And the atmosphere changed.
The name traveled through the air like electricity.
"Victim identified. Evelyn Vale."
Even Elara knew that name.
Everyone did.
Evelyn Vale.
Mother of Adrian Vale.
The richest man in the city.
The media would call her a philanthropist. A business genius. The backbone of an empire.
And now—
Dead.
The officer studying Elara looked at her differently.
Not as a witness.
As a variable.
As a possibility.
"Miss Quinn," he said carefully, "you were the only one on the scene when we arrived."
"Yes, because I ran to help!"
"But you can't clearly identify another vehicle."
"I told you, it was dark—"
"And you were close enough to the victim's window."
Her heart dropped.
"What are you implying?"
"We're just establishing facts."
But the way he wrote in his notebook felt heavier now.
Like each word could bury her.
As paramedics covered Evelyn Vale's body, Elara felt something shift in the air.
Like the city itself had inhaled sharply.
She didn't know yet that by morning:
Security footage from two nearby houses would be mysteriously corrupted.
Traffic cameras would "malfunction."
And the only consistent presence at the scene—
Would be her.
She didn't know that somewhere across the city, a man would receive a phone call that would hollow him out from the inside.
She didn't know that when Adrian Vale arrived at the hospital and saw his mother's lifeless body—
He would demand someone to blame.
And her name would be handed to him.
Like a gift.
By the time Elara finally walked home that night, the rain had stopped.
But the sky still felt heavy.
Watching.
Waiting.
As if it knew something she didn't.
As if it had already decided—
She would pay for a crime she didn't commit.
And somewhere in the dark, a silent empire began to turn its eyes toward her.