Chapter 6: Betrayal in the Blood

I stared at the flight confirmation on my phone, hardly daring to believe it was real.

The news picked up my asset sales, and the internet buzzed. A new user ID popped up. "Savannah really was kidnapped. The trafficker turned himself in."

The post spread like wildfire. Screenshots, speculation, wild theories—everyone wanted the last word.

The comments blew up. "Waiting for updates!"

"Stop blaming Savannah, she’s suffered enough! Grace set her up, then killed her husband. Grace deserves whatever’s coming!"

For once, the tide turned in my favor. Support poured in, strangers defending my name.

Attached was a screenshot of Grace’s old Facebook post. "So jealous of my bestie, her husband’s loaded. Wish I could find a guy like that! Or swap places with my BFF~@Savannah Callahan."

The picture was a designer purse.

The post was petty, jealous, and so perfectly Grace. The comments section exploded, people dissecting every word.

It was too real—people couldn’t stop talking about it. #GraceMonroeDeservesJustice #TraffickerSentencing trended for days.

My phone buzzed with notifications, the world watching as the truth finally unraveled.

But soon after, Eli vanished. I called, but his phone was off. I took a cab to his place, and the door was sealed shut.

A sick feeling settled in my gut. I pounded on the door, shouting his name, but nobody answered.

I panicked.

My hands shook as I dialed Detective Harris, my mind racing through every terrible possibility.

The police called, excited. "Savannah! The case is solved! The one who trafficked you was Eli! We’ve got the evidence!"

The words hit me like a freight train. I sank to the floor, the world spinning out of control.

I collapsed.

"Detective Harris... how is that possible? We’ve known each other since we were kids... Are you sure?"

My voice barely made a sound, disbelief and heartbreak fighting inside me.

"No mistake—he turned himself in. For the money. Grace paid top dollar."

Harris sounded tired, but certain. Suddenly, every memory clicked into place, but with new, ugly meaning.

I was silent. Eli had lied to me, said he’d destroyed all the evidence.

The betrayal cut deeper than any wound. I pressed my fist to my mouth, fighting the urge to scream.

"How long will he serve?"

"Three to seven years, depending."

The numbers felt meaningless. It was all too late.

"Thank you, Detective. You’ve worked hard."

The words sounded hollow, but I meant them. At least someone had tried to find the truth.