Chapter 68
-Maya’s POV-
Sometimes I think I make very bad decisions. An example was looking into that compartment, another would be taking the files and running. I don’t exactly known what I was thinking. Actually, I wasn’t. I just needed to understand. He was going to know they were gone but somehow I would deal with the fallout later.
I hadn’t thought.
I just took them and ran. There was no way. My head was spiraling and I was seconds away from having a breakdown..
How?
Why?
Different questions were running through my head. At least I managed to hand Ms. Edwards something we could work on later before bolting out. She had given me so many passes and there were zero plans on doing anything to get on her wrong side. Now, I just needed answers.
The silence in Natalia’s office stretched, thick and suffocating. She sat opposite me, glued to the photos spread on the coffee table. Her expression mirrored the look of pure, unadulterated horror that had contorted my face moments ago when I first saw them.
“Say something.” I finally choked out, my voice hoarse. She hadn’t moved, her eyes still fixed on the incriminating pictures. This was why she was my best friend. She could read me like a well–worn book, decipher the tangled mess of confusion churning in my head. But this time, even she didn’t have the answers.
Slowly, Natalia lifted her gaze, meeting mine. “I know you,” she started, her voice hesitant. “Well enough to know you wouldn’t do this. But… how? It looks so…” she trailed off, searching for the right word.
“Real?” I supplied, my voice a ragged rasp. Real. That was the word. Those pictures looked terrifyingly real, depicting a scene that never happened, a betrayal I would never commit. A horrible truth began to dawn – a horrifying connection between seemingly unrelated events.
“The trashed house,” I whispered, the pieces clicking into place. “Adrian’s house. It was trashed when I went there after Alex… after Alex rejected me.” The memory hit me like a physical blow. The sudden shift in Alex’s behavior, the cold rejection that had left me reeling–it all made a twisted kind of sense.
Before I could fully process the revelation, the words tumbled out, spilling from my lips like a dam bursting, “Oh my god,” I breathed, the
I words a desperate plea for someone, anyone, to understand. “He thinks I cheated. He thinks I cheated on him with Adrian.”
The words echoed in the small office, bouncing off the walls and amplifying the tremor in my voice. Tears pricked at my eyes, blurring my vision. Before I could fully collapse, Natalia’s hand landed on mine, a solid anchor in the storm of emotions threatening to drown me.
“Shh,” she soothed, her voice calm amidst the chaos. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. There has to be some explanation. Because I know for a fact, you would never do that to Alex.”
Her words, laced with unwavering belief, were a lifeline thrown into the churning sea of despair. Gratitude flooded me, warming the cold dread that had gripped my heart. I clung to her words, a desperate boat clinging to a piece of driftwood.
we prove it? How do we explain these pictures? I didn’t do this. And “You’re right,” I forced myself to say. “I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. But how do we he never asked me. Never gave me a chance to explain myself. After everything we had been through, he just rejected me. Why?”
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Chapter 68
She didn’t have an answer, a fact reflected in the crease of worry etching itself onto her forehead. But her hand remained clasped firmly in mine, a silent promise of unwavering support. We sat there in the oppressive silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on us. Ideas bounced around in my head, hall–formed and desperate, but none of them felt substantial enough to combat the fabricated reality staring back at us from the table.
“The only explanation is that someone framed you,” she broke the silence her voice low and serious. “And whoever it is, they’re damn good
at it.”
She furrowed her brow, frustration etching lines onto her forehead.
ut it still doesn’t make sense. Why would Alex just jump to rejection? Why wouldn’t he even try to talk to you, find out if there was any truth to these pictures?”
I slumped further into the chair, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. A groan escaped my lips. “He’s going to know I took the files,” I mumbled, dread creeping into my voice. “He has cameras in that place. We used to…” My cheeks burned as a blush rose up my neck. “He used to you know… and then we would watch.”
She let out a humorless snort. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “I’ll get back to how much of a freak you are later. Right now, we need to figure out who the hell did this.” Her eyes narrowed, a fierce glint replacing the worry that had clouded them moments ago. “And then,” she continued, her voice hardening. “I’m going to have a little chat with Alex. Preferably with my claws out.”
I couldn’t help but crack a small smile at her last statement. Even in this mess, Natalia’s loyalty and fierce protectiveness were a source of comfort. But the smile quickly faded as the gravity of the situation settled back in.
Natalia seemed to sense my fear. “Don’t worry,” she said, placing a hand on my arm. “We’ll figure this out. We just need to think logically. How did these pictures get created? Who would have access to them? And most importantly, who would benefit from framing you?”
Her words echoed in my mind.
Who would benefit?
The answer, frustratingly, remained elusive. Adrian? It seemed illogical. He got his life torm apart and he ended up in jail. The painful thought crossed my mind. Alex had thrown their friendship away because of a lie and if so, Adrian had every right to want revenge.
“What if we can’t prove I’m innocent?” I finally asked, my voice cracking slightly.
Natalia reached across the table and squeezed my hand tightly. “We will prove you’re innocent,” she said with unwavering conviction. “And we are doing to find out the motherf*cker who did this.”
“You think I should go put them back?” I blurted out, the thought of the missing files adding another layer of anxiety to the already precarious situation.
She scoffed. “Absolutely not! Let him see that you took them. What’s the worst he c pictures in the first place.”
do? He’s already acting like a jerk for believing these
She picked up a photo again, scrutinizing it with narrowed eyes. “Do you recognize this location? Where is this even taken?”
Dread pooled in my stomach as I shook my head. I had scanned the pictures earlier, searching for anything familiar, anything that might jog my memory, but they were completely foreign. “No, I don’t,” I admitted. “I have no idea where that place could be.”
Shefrowned, flipping through the rest of the photos. Each one depicted the same scene – a luxuriously furnished living room, me and Adrian in various compromising positions. But none of it felt real. The furniture arrangement was unfamiliar, the lighting seemed staged, and most importantly, I had a clear memory of never being in that place.
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Chapter 68
“This is creepy,” She muttered, her voice laced with concern. “These pictures are obviously fake, but how did someone manage to fabricate something so convincing? And why this specific location?”
Silence descended upon the room once more, thick with unanswered questions. The weight of the situation pressed down on me, suffocating. Every passing moment felt like an eternity as we grappled with the implications of the photos
We spent the next hour meticulously examining each photo. We checked the background for any recognizable landmarks, the furniture for any brand logos, anything that could offer a hint about the location or the person who created the images. But frustratingly, there were no
obvious clues.
“This is getting us nowhere,” Natalia sighed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “We need a fresh perspective, someone who can approach this objectively. A professional investigator, maybe. Someone discreet who can dig deeper without blowing our cover.”
I nodded frantically, mirroring Natalia’s urgency. Hiring a private investigator felt extreme, but the situation demanded drastic measures. Just as I was about to suggest someone Natalia might know, a bright flash on my phone screen cut through the tense silence.
My breath hitched as I instinctively reached for it. A notification pulsed on the screen, a tiny red icon screaming for attention. With trembling fingers, I unlocked the phone and tapped the notification.
A video began to play – a grainy, low–resolution clip that sent a jolt of terror through me. It was me, sprinting out of Alex’s office, the stolen files clutched tightly in my hand.
But the true horror unfolded d after the video ended. Below it, a chilling message burned into the screen: “I have been watching you, Amaya Stone. Or should I say… Thorne? Or would you prefer McCall? And I am going to find out every secret.”
A second message followed, each word dripping with malice: “You cannot hide from me.”
