Over the Fourth of July weekend, I took my boyfriend's sister to his flashy new influencer hub.

Fresh off brain surgery, Benedetta Griffin needed a break from her recovery, and I hoped the trip would lift her spirits.

In the hub, a streamer was hawking a face cream like a carnival barker. "Listen, fam! The boss lady is slashing prices. Get this $3,800 cream for just $398 today!"

Benedetta tugged my sleeve. "That cream is bad news."

She'd interned at the FDA last summer and could spot a scam from a mile away. "It's packed with steroids. Long-term use will ruin your skin."

Driven by her sense of justice, she marched up to the streamer. "You can't sell this unlicensed junk. The steroids exceed legal limits. Pull it from the shelves."

Morgan Lamb froze, but then her fake smile twisted into a scowl. "Who the hell are you to trash my product?"

Benedetta didn't back down. "You're scamming people, and you know it."

Morgan planted her hands on her hips. "I'm the boss lady here. How dare you slander my brand? Nobody leaves until you cough up $500,000 for damages."

"Boss lady?" My stomach churned.

My boyfriend's sudden venture into the streaming industry now made sense. He was sinking money into this hub to bankroll his lover.

I fumbled for my phone to call him, but Morgan was faster. "Babe, get to the hub. Two haters crashed the party, trying to tank our business."

Morgan Lamb's eyes glinted with malice when she caught my reaction. "Oh, so you're the one sniffing around my man, huh?"

Before I could get a word in, she flipped on her livestream, shoving the camera in my face.

"Fam, check out this shameless woman!" she screeched, her voice like nails on a chalkboard, blasting through the hub's speakers and her online audience. "She drags some half-dead kid here, accuses me of selling fakes, and claims she knows my man. Guess her little scheme's falling apart now that the real queen is here. What's next, playing the victim?"

Her words hit like a tidal wave of sewage, and the staff's whispers swallowed us whole.

"She's got some nerve, showing up like that. Total con artist!"

"Looks all sweet, but she's a lowlife, dragging a sick kid into her drama."

"Can't pay up? Then don't pick a fight with the boss lady."

Benedetta Griffin shook with rage, nearly collapsing. Her recent surgery had left her weak, and now her face was ghostly pale, her breathing shallow.

"You're all wrong!" she gasped, clutching her chest as dizziness hit her.

I steadied her, shielding her from the venomous glares with my body. I shouted, "She's selling dangerous products. We're just trying to protect consumers!"

The staff laughed, drowning out my voice.

Her eyes glinting with cruelty, Morgan signaled several burly security guys to close in, their broad shoulders blocking any escape.

"This hub is my castle, a gift from my man," she declared, thrusting her phone's camera closer to my face. "I call the shots here, and you're done!"

Benedetta clung to my arm, whispering, "Did we mess up? This can't be Nick's place, right?"

Nick Griffin had always been her hero—a flawless brother who could never be involved in such a sleazy operation or allow his staff to peddle harmful products.

To us, Nick was thoughtful, sweet, and ambitious.

He was perfect in every way, but Benedetta's question shattered my last flicker of denial.

"This is Nick's hub," I muttered, my voice heavy with realization, "and this woman is his mistress."

My hands shook as I pulled out my phone, ready to call him and demand answers. But before I could dial, Morgan's manicured hand shot out, snatching my phone.

"Calling for backup? Dream on." She dangled the phone mockingly before smashing it onto the concrete floor.

The screen shattered. Not satisfied, she ground her stiletto into the wreckage, reducing it to fragments.

My restraint snapped, rage boiling over, but Morgan reveled in it. "You're not just paying $500,000; you're going to grovel at my livestream, begging for forgiveness. Nobody messes with Morgan Lamb."

The name hit like a thunderbolt.

Weeks ago, I'd glimpsed a heart emoji with a "Mo" on Nick's lock screen. When I asked, he dismissed it as a client. Now the truth was undeniable.

Benedetta pieced it together that this was indeed Nick's new company and that the man Morgan spoke of was Nick.

Her face blanched, but she clung to hope. "I'm Nick Griffin's sister. Did you make a mistake? My brother has got a girlfriend, and that's Jennifer."

Morgan's hand lashed out, slapping Benedetta across the face. "You, his sister? Look at yourself, you pathetic nobody!"

Benedetta stumbled back, her head crashing against a table's sharp edge with a sickening thud.

My heart leaping to my throat, I rushed to her side. "Benedetta!"

Blood gushed from her scalp, streaking her pale face. She curled into a ball, clutching her head. Blood seeped through her fingers.

"Jennifer..." she whispered, her eyes unfocused. "My head hurts so much."

"Benedetta, hold on!" I cradled her, my voice breaking.

"Help... Help me," she murmured, her body convulsing.

With my phone gone, I fumbled for hers, finding it in her pocket. But before I could hit the dial button, Morgan ripped it away, waving it at her livestream. "Look, fam! They're pulling a fake injury stunt to scam us. What a joke!"

The crowd roared with laughter, pointing at us.

"Give it back!" I lunged, but the guards tackled me, slamming my face into the cold floor.

Pinned, I could only watch Benedetta's breathing grow fainter. Desperation crept in, and I screamed, "She is really Nick's sister. She just had brain surgery. She'll die without help!"

My pleas were lost in the livestream's cruel jeers.

Morgan crouched beside me, her eyes spewing venom. "Perfect. One less headache for me."

Her laughter grated on my eardrums. She raised her stiletto and stomped on my hand. Pain seared through me, my bones cracking under the force. I screamed, nearly blacking out.

Benedetta's shallow gasps, the crowd's taunts, Morgan's cackling, and the agony in my hand merged into a living nightmare.

Morgan leaned closer, sneering. "Think you're clever? My man runs this place, and that dying brat is nothing. Only idiots like you spin lies this pathetic."

Benedetta's face was turning blue. Desperate, I shouted, "I'm telling the truth! She is Nick's sister, and I'm his girlfriend. Call him if you don't believe me!"

"You? His girlfriend?" Morgan scoffed. "Don't make me laugh. You're not even in his league."

She dangled Benedetta's life like a bargaining chip. "Want an ambulance? Sure. Get on your knees and beg in front of my viewers."

I looked at Benedetta, whose face twisted in pain. She croaked, "Jennifer, don't."

Her breath was fading, the dire situation crushing me. I dropped to my knees. "I'm sorry."

Morgan cackled, pointing at me. "Look at her, groveling like a dog."

Her crew joined in, their laughter a cruel chorus.

I swallowed the humiliation, looking up at her. "I did what you asked. Call the ambulance now."

Her smirk widened, her eyes gleaming with sadistic joy. "You actually bought that? God, you're dumber than I thought."

"No!" Tears burned my eyes, spilling down my cheeks as Benedetta's body jerked, her eyes going glassy.

She reached out a trembling hand, brushing a tear from my face. "Jennifer, I'm sorry."

Her apology was for my shame, for Nick's betrayal, and for the world that failed her. Her hand fell limp, and her breathing stopped.

"Benedetta? Wake up!" I shook her, but she didn't respond.

I'd never imagined a simple trip to the hub would end with Morgan killing her. I broke down, my cries raw and guttural.

Morgan's assistant checked Benedetta's pulse and shrieked, "Morgan, she's really dead! What do we do?"

Morgan frowned, unconcerned. "She came here to cause trouble. Her death is not my problem. Nick's got friends at the precinct. We're golden."

Her crew relaxed, but my rage exploded. I surged to my feet, my hands closing around her throat. "You monster!"

I wanted her to pay with her life.