"I had a one way ticket to a place where all the demons go,

Where the winds don't change,

And nothing in the ground can ever grow,

No hope, just lies,

And you're taught to cry in your pillow,

But I survived."

Every time it happened she'd cry. No one knew but she did. When the sun couldn't see her and the door was shut she'd sob like the heavens was killing her. Lydia hated death. Anything to do with it made her skin crawl. That's why when Allison gave her the message that Jackson was done for she crawled into her bed and cried for him. It had been inevitable from the day she met him. He was power crazy and wanted the world at his fingertips. She could feel him inching his way closer to her, trying to dig some dirt, make a hole for her grave. It had to be put a stop to. She'd been at this too long for someone as careless as Jackson to steal it all away from her. Allison said he didn't even see it coming, it was quick and efficient. No mess, no hassle. Easy. That word made Lydia feel sick. Jackson was good at what he did, he was smart, skilled. He'd taken down men twice his size without breaking a sweat. He deserved a fight. To die with his fists clenched and his lips in a snarl. He deserved a chance. But Lydia wasn't naïve enough to allow him one of those. You keep giving people chances and eventually one of them takes it.

When the moon was gone and the sunlight illuminated her room, the tears had dried up. With water splashed on her face, any evidence was wiped away. She trailed down to the kitchen in sweats and a t-shirt. It was nearing on eight in the morning and she had to get to work.

XxxxX

"Morning, Miss Martin." Her primly dressed assistant greeted Lydia at the doors, "you have an appointment with Mr Harris later today to discuss the new covers for next summer, and a meeting at 12 with your lawyer to discuss financing." She kept her feet moving and her hips swaying as Tracey struggled to catch up. "I moved your dentist appointment back an hour so you'd have time for lunch, and your morning coffee is on your desk along with your schedule for today and next months articles that need your approval."

"Thank you Tracy." The assistant was good, it was a shame she'd be gone next month. Lydia forced the glass door open with her butt. One hand carrying the trench coat she'd regretted bringing, and the other carrying her snakeskin Gucci bag they sent her as a 'gift'. Her office was pristine as usual, the wall opposite the door completely glass. Her furniture was modern and bold. Two red suede couches were facing each other in the middle of the room. A black shiny desk was in front of the glass walls. The huge leopard print chair Allison had bought her when they finally knocked Deucalion off his pedestal and took over the Madison territory. Reaching as far as Wisconsin was a big deal back then. Now she had shipments being sent out to Europe and profits rolling in. Nevertheless she kept the chair, it was a symbol of how for they'd come.

Lydia dumped her bag in the big draw by her feet and began paging through the work on her desk. There was a good amount to do and her schedule left by Tracy was fairly clear. Today seemed easy enough. That was all until a small petite Asian girl decided to pop in for a morning chat.

"Lydia?" The girl in question perked up from her seat.

"Kira, hey." This was a rare occurrence. She always tried her best to keep the magazine and the drug cartel separate, but sometimes her friends forgot the value of circumspection. "What brings you here?" She didn't even try to hide the sourness from her voice.

"I know, I know, but we have a problem." The girl fretted all the way over to her desk.

Lydia felt a sickening feeling settle in her stomach. Usually these problems were resolvable, but she knew eventually one wouldn't be. That Kira, or Isaac, or maybe even Allison would tell her something had happened and it would be the beginning of the end. The fall she wouldn't get back up from. "What's wrong?" Lydia reached across to the remote by her computer mouse and aimed it at the sensor in the right hand corner. The room became overcome with darkness as black shutters covered the windows. Almost immediately the glass chandelier in the middle of the room lit up and the darkness that arose Lydia's heartbeat was gone.

"It's Erica. She was the one who offered to go after Jackson, and-."

"Allison said he was taken care of, don't tell me otherwise Yukimura." Lydia raised her eyebrows at the brunette.

"No, Jacksons in the morgue as we speak." Lydia felt the familiar wrench she associated with death. "Its just that, well you know how Erica is; she gets caught up in the whole thing. Likes to play with them a bit..."

"Kira..." Lydia warned carefully. She knew not to punish the messenger for the crime, but she could punish her for withholding the message, right?

"She got co- sloppy, and she didn't wear her gloves."

"oh god." Lydia knew what was happening, they had a fingerprint. For fucks sake Erica.

"Hayden's sister told her, they managed to pull a fingerprint...from his cheek."

Lydia sighed loudly. Erica was always a loose canon from the start, she should've seen this coming. Again, Lydia was naïve and thought people could actually change.

"What do we do?"

"She's out."

"But-"

"I'm not letting her screw this up for the rest of us." Lydia hated loose ends. She let Erica run away, or try and cover it up, it could be the thread that pulls the whole fabric apart. "I want everything gone. You get rid of all her product, her cash, everything I ever gave her is burnt, tonight."

"I got it."

"Except the gun. The one she used on Jackson, the cops'll need it for evidence. It'll have her fingerprints on." Lydia logged on to her computer and Kira left the room, nothing more was said on the matter.

The redhead spent the rest of her working morning handing out approvals for articles on upcoming brands, allowing editors extra money for their budgets and firing models that only wanted blue M&Ms. She revelled in the scandalised look on their faces when it dawns on them how replaceable they were. People said beauty was timeless but that's just a childish saying to make pensioners feel better about themselves. Beauty wasn't in how high your cheekbones were. It was more than that. And presumptuous girls who thought their duck face was a gift from God didn't last long in this industry. Lydia knew because she owned this industry. People like her who decided what people like the city business woman or the teenage fashionista read and saw, were the people who controlled not just what fashion was but what it would be.

After the meeting with Mr Harris, Lydia met up with Danny in a coffee shop. He was one of her only friends who was completely oblivious to Lydia's side job. She met him at an airport when his flight was cancelled because of the Christmas snow. Lydia in all her kindness offered him a seat on her private jet which was headed to the same place as his flight. They'd hit it off straight away, and he joined her for a night out partying in an exclusive club. After that night they'd been great friends. But Danny was kind and innocent. It'd blow his mind if he ever found out what the NYPD called her.

After her coffee date Lydia popped some gum and took the elevator up to the top floor. The redhead made her way down to her office without interruption. Which was unfortunate because perhaps if someone had interrupted her they could've warned her about the Hale in her office.

"Mr Hale." Lydia bit out as she closed her office door behind her. The gum in her mouth became an annoyance as she looks around for a tissue to spit it out.

"Miss Martin, you seem surprised. We did have the appointment today right?"

Lydia vaguely remembered Tracy sprouting it off this morning. "We do." She swallowed the gum down eventually. The whole 'it'll stay in your stomach for years' thing was a myth anyway. Probably.

"Well then." he gestured vaguely to the couch opposite him and began opening his suitcase to pull out papers. "I trust no one will be of interruption."

"My assistant would know better than to allow that." he nodded at her response.

"These are the figures from the last few months, and I cannot wait for you to see them." he was practically bouncing on his heels.

"Are they good?" Lydia asked with boredom. The money being brought in at the time being was enough for her liking. Peter always wanted more though.

"Good?" he asked incredulously, "I don't know what is happening in Europe right now but our numbers have almost doubled since last year. Local business is still increasing too. Over 3 states have increased their revenue by 50%. You Lydia Martin are flourishing." Lydia looked over the sheets displaying exactly what he had just told her. The profits were definitely bigger.

"Wow." She browsed through them again just to make sure.

"This, however, leads me to another proposal." Everything with Peter was like a show. She always told Allison this is why he was so good in the courtroom. The guy could talk himself out of a fort knox.

"Go on."

"The magazine is pulling in too much. I said the exact same, last year. Now the numbers are increasing heavily, you need something else."

"Nope, I told you. These big numbers are only temporary, I just have to wait it out and eventually they'll relax. There's no need to go overboard."

"Lydia, you're not listening to me. You need something else. Sooner or later the magazine will be breaking profitable records and people will start sniffing around. If you don't find something else to launder the money through someone will find a slip up and you'll be caught up."

"They shouldn't find anything other than good business. Not if you do your job."

"Don't be stupid. That's how they get you."

Lydia swallowed heavily. She hated venturing out, making new adjustments. She was thankful for what she had, and going further meant more chances for failure. "What am I supposed to do? Open a hotel?"

"No, we need something believable. Nothing that'll arise too many questions."

"Any ideas?" Lydia shrugged helplessly.

"You should open a chain, something off of the magazine. Build on the hype of it."

"Like fashion?"

"What about beauty? A nail salon!" Peter clapped proudly...at himself.

"I have a better idea."

XxxxX

"Everyone, I would like to refer you to the paperwork Tracy is handing around." The younger brunette began distributing the folders to the girls on the round table. "This years numbers have taken a jump. All of your wages have therefore been bumped by 6%." There was a chorus of 'what's?' and 'oh my god's' before the circle of employees went silent as they read through the papers. "You'll read that we've found some space in the budget for a new venture-"

"Makeover studios?" A blonde at the far left interrupted with scepticism.

Lydia paused mid-speech to throw her a threatening glance, "yes, we open one here in New York to start off with. Young girls can come in for hair and makeup to be done professionally. Then they have a photo shoot of their very own in the same place. We give young girls the opportunity to see what it's like to be a model for the day. We can encourage birthday parties, Christmas gifts, anything we want."

"How do we get these professionals in though? I mean if we want this to be good they can't be just any rookies off the streets." Allison spoke with fluency as usual, gesturing to the paperwork in her hand with a pen.

"We give some of the funds to charity. 30%? People love to look like they care about the less fortunate."

"I love it. I think people will really respond to something like this." Allison grinned happily.

"What about clothes? We could use last seasons designer items and offer kids to try them on." A brunette Lydia couldn't name offered with interest.

"I don't know, wearing clothes six other people have worn before you. I don't think it'll sell." The girl next to Lydia answered.

"But they're designer clothes, not just knock offs."

"They could be optional. It's not like we have anything else to do with the stuff."

"Why don't we have the big designers in cabinets. Like the floor length dresses. Not the Versace jeans, but red carpet things."

"Celebrities could donate them, we wouldn't need hundreds."

"Not like they're gonna wear them again."

"Won't they be too big for young girls?"

Lydia checked her watch, "this is all great. How about you write all your ideas down and we can set up a meeting. I'm also gonna need a special task force to work specifically on this. It could be a pay raise for some of you so don't slack OK." She received a wave of nods and tight smiles before they started packing up. Tracy jumped up from her stool where she'd been scribbling down notes and began gathering Lydia's things.

She left the meeting room feeling good. People seemed on board with the studios and no one had any questions about why we were doubling our sales while the economy was worsening. She heard the sound of stiletto heels behind her and slowed down.

"Sales were pretty good last month. Almost ground breaking." Allison walked beside her. She always had the appearance of a journalist more than a fashion editor. She wouldn't wear the brightly coloured dresses that most girls were pulling off around here. Neither would she wear makeup that peeled off at night it was so thick. She wore nice, simple clothes that still managed to look in season. And she'd never needed lots of makeup to look twice as pretty as the models that walked these corridors. The heel standards she did like to live up to though.

"I know, weird right?" Lydia stopped at the front desk.

"I'm just happy about the extra 6%."

Lydia chuckled before turning to Lori, "messages?"

"6." The girl covered the microphone on her headset as she spoke. As usual she was on the phone. She handed over some post its and turned back to her work. Allison began talking again about what she's gonna do with the extra money, despite the fact that they both know she'd be getting a much higher raise than 6%. Lydia tuned it out as she thumbed through her notes: 1 cancelled photographer, one decline of a job offer (she was gonna regret that now), 2 cancelled appointments, one meeting request for advertisement (not her department), and one missed dentists appointment - crap.

After 3 phone calls to one make up company, one local newspaper and her dentistry office the clock finally read 5:00. Lydia wasn't one to work late. She worked to the same time as those she paid. Allison met her walking out and the two clambered into Lydia's town car. Aidan, Lydia's bodyguard she hired 3 months ago, was already waiting with two glasses of champagne.

"Good afternoon ladies." He greeted them upon entrance.

"Aidan, you're a life saver." Lydia took the glass off him gratuitously. Of course Allison declined politely, she wast one for drinking in daylight.

"Home?" Ethan proposed from the front seat. Lydia was lucky to find them. Twin bodyguards. They're like Gods personal present, just for her.

"Home. That sounds amazing." Allison sighed as she pulled out her phone.

"How was your day?" Aided asked politely. He really was a sweetheart.

"Tiring, boring, dull, normal."

He laughed and reached over to refill her glass. Allison didn't speak for the rest of the car ride. She was scrolling through her Instagram feed as usual. Keeping up with celebrity fashion etc.

Aidan continued with his relentless flirting the whole journey. Lydia didn't exactly flirt back but that didn't stop him.

"C'mon, working with all those models all day, you've never even considered it?" It was shameful really.

They pulled into the complex garage and Ethan parked up the car. Allison climbed out first and Lydia after. She tried to ignore the firm grip Aidan put on her waist as he helped her out. Allison didn't. Instead she rolled her eyes and looked away. Allison had never really like Aidan. Apparently he was irritating and abrasive. Lydia didn't see it.

Ethan used his key to work the elevator up to their floor - the top one of course. The boys offered to stay but Allison insisted they leave. She assured them we'd be fine.

"I spoke to Kira." This was all Allison said. Lydia sighed and pulled some red wine out of a cupboard, the bottle was half empty from the night before.

"I did what I had to do." Lydia poured the red liquid into two glasses. Allison chose to take one this time.

"You made the right call, but they're gonna hate you for it. Cora, Boyd, Isaac, they liked Erica."

"They should've told her to wear freaking gloves then."

"I agree, but don't say that to them." Allison smirked as she took a sip. The girl was impossible to read. No matter how many years Lydia had known her she still couldn't predict her next move. No matter how many secrets Allison shared she still seemed like a mystery. Perhaps that's why Lydia had kept her around. She was hard to get bored of.

The redhead reached into a draw and pulled out the black TV remote. She flicked onto the first channel which just happened to be the news, "a young girl today was arrested in her home in Boston. Police have yet to release a statement regarding the arrest but sources say the girl is suspected of the recent assassination of Jackson Whittmore, that occurred in his Chicago apartment earlier this week. The murder has been described as professional and brutal. There was a single gunshot wound to his head, and forensics suggest he was forced to his knees before he was shot. Our associate is at the home of Eric-" the TV cut out.

Both girls stared at the screen for a few moments after Lydia had shut it off. Lydia couldn't lie, it felt good to have her loose ends cut off.