Chapter 3

By the time Ethan burst through the door, Serena was still slumped over the table, motionless.

He didn't even bother taking off his shoes as he rushed over to her.

"Serena! Serena, wake up!"

He shook her shoulders violently. Seeing no reaction, he whipped around, glaring at me like a feral beast. "What did you do to her?!"

I cowered back, tears streaming down my face on command. "I don't know... We were just having a drink, and she suddenly collapsed... Ethan, is she going to die? I’m so scared..."

Looking at my tear-stained face, the suspicion in Ethan’s eyes faded slightly, replaced by sheer disgust and impatience.

"Stop crying and call 911!"

"Right, right!" I fumbled with my phone, but my finger "accidentally" hit the voice recorder app instead.

While waiting for the paramedics, Ethan paced the living room like a caged animal, constantly checking his watch.

Loki jumped onto the sofa, lazily licking his paw.

[The scumbag is stressing out. He’s worried that if the ambulance takes too long, they’ll miss the shipping window for their 'cargo'—which is you. He’d lose a massive payout.]

[Yikes. Look at the way he looks at Serena. Like she’s a damaged piece of merchandise, not a human being. They really deserve each other.]

The ambulance arrived shortly after.

The EMTs did a quick assessment and concluded it was a deep coma induced by a mix of alcohol and heavy sedatives. No immediate danger to her life, but she needed her stomach pumped at the hospital.

Ethan visibly relaxed upon hearing this.

He climbed into the back of the ambulance with her. Before the doors shut, he glared back at me, his voice a low hiss: "Not a word about tonight to anyone. If this leaks, I’ll make sure you regret ever being born!"

I nodded submissively, watching the ambulance drive away.

The moment the door clicked shut, the terror on my face vanished.

I pulled out my phone and played the recording.

Perfect. Ethan’s frantic shout of "What did you do to her?!" was loud, clear, and dripping with raw, hysterical panic—proof enough that his relationship with Serena was far from casual.

Next, I packed up the diamond ring and the spiked bottle of wine into a plastic bag, then booted up my laptop.

First, I sent an anonymous email to the city’s top gossip outlets with the headline: "Son of Billionaire Charles Carter Caught in Love Triangle: Girlfriend's Best Friend Rushed to ER After Overdose."

Attached were intimate photos of Ethan and Serena at the hospital—which I had hired a private investigator to take earlier—along with the damning audio clip.

Once that was sent, I logged into my old Instagram account, which had over 500,000 followers.

It was a beauty and lifestyle account I had poured my heart into during college. After I started dating Ethan, he told me he hated me "putting myself out there," so I had let it go dormant.

Now, it was time to put it to good use.

I drafted a long, text-image post detailing the story of a "naive girl gaslit and set up by her fake-poor boyfriend and her snake of a best friend."

The protagonist was, of course, myself.

I didn't name names, but the clues were glaringly obvious.

I mentioned meeting my "struggling orphan boyfriend" at a charity gala, my "wealthy best friend who constantly tried to make me break up with him," and how "I worked myself to the bone to pay for his lifestyle while he used my money to spoil someone else."

At the end, I posted a selfie of my red, swollen eyes. The look of vulnerability and quiet defiance was pitch-perfect.

[I thought I found true love. Turns out, I was just the target of a sick, calculated trap. What do I do now?]

After hitting publish, I shut my laptop, scooped Loki into my arms, and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Tomorrow was going to be a wild day.