Chapter 2

“Sophie, it was a virtual number. It had already been deactivated by the time I found it.” There was sympathy in my classmate’s voice.

“But I asked a friend at the payment platform to help. We followed the trail to the account used to buy the number.”

“They used a fake identity, but the identity-verification trail points to someone named Ryan Cole.”

Ryan Cole was Lily’s boyfriend of six months. He claimed to be a finance professional and spent his days drifting through expensive restaurants and exclusive venues.

I’d warned Lily before. Ryan seemed slick and untrustworthy.

But she’d accused me of being jealous that she’d found true love. She said Ryan was a business genius who had moved back from overseas just for her.

Now it all made sense.

After hanging up, I sat on the cold floor, my whole body feeling like ice.

The doorbell rang without warning. I looked through the peephole and saw Lily.

She was holding a bowl of steaming chicken soup. Her face wore its usual sweet, innocent smile.

“Sophie, Mrs. Wilson said you looked awful when you rushed out earlier. Did something happen?”

“Open up. I made your favorite chicken soup.”

I opened the door and looked at her without expression.

It took every ounce of strength I had to suppress the urge to lunge at her and tear away that fake, caring mask.

Lily startled at the sight of me. She reached toward my forehead with a worried look.

“Oh my God, you’re so pale. Are you sick?”

I moved away from her hand and gave her a cold look. “Come in.”

She stepped inside, slipped off her shoes as if she owned the place, and set the soup on the dining table. As she ladled it into a bowl, she kept talking.

“You always do this. You never take care of yourself.”

“No matter how busy work gets, your health comes first. Come on. Have some while it’s hot.”

Her performance was flawless. That concern looked so genuine that, if I hadn’t known the truth, I might have stayed trapped in her lies forever.

I didn’t move. Standing behind her, I asked quietly:

“Lily, do you remember when I was hospitalized six months ago?”

Her hand paused for a fraction of a second before she resumed ladling the soup. She looked back at me with a smile.

“Of course. Your fever was so bad you were barely conscious. You scared me to death.”

“Thank God I was there every day. What would you have done all alone?”

“Yes. Thank God I had you.” I stared into her eyes and asked, one word at a time:

“You had my phone and my ID then, didn’t you?”

Her smile stiffened. Her eyes shifted away.

“Yes. You were so out of it that I was worried you’d lose them, so I put them somewhere safe. Why are you asking?”

“No reason.” I pulled out a chair and sat down, lifting the bowl. Steam blurred my vision.

“It just occurred to me that I’ve been too good to you.”

She seemed to relax and put her smile back on. “We’re best friends. Who else would I take care of?”

I looked at her, ice spreading through my chest.

She probably thought I was just being sentimental. She had no idea what was raging inside me.

I needed more evidence. Enough to take them down in one blow.