When my phone rang, jolting me awake, I was still half–asleep and disoriented.
“Hello? Who’s this?” Imumbled, stifling a yawn.
“Claire, are you home? Are you okay?”
Aaron’s voice came through the line, calm as always, but there was an unmistakable tremor in it–something I’d never heard before.
I blinked, still groggy.
1/2
Chapter 10
+25 BONUS
What could possibly happen to someone in their twenties just lying around at home on a weekend?
“I’m fine. What’s wrong?”
There was a brief pause like he was taking a breath of relief.
“Good. Just rest for now and try not to check your phone or answer any unfamiliar calls.
“What?” I frowned, suddenly wide awake. “Why?”
Aaron didn’t respond, and before I could press further, the call ended.
Feeling a little uneasy, I grabbed my phone and opened it. The moment the news feed refreshed, my eyes widened, and my fingers froze.
The top trending headline screamed, “Aaron Ford: The Homewrecking Heir (Exclusive!)”
The word “exclusive” in red practically burned into my retinas.
With shaking hands, I tapped the headline and immediately recognized the account behind it–Nicolas‘ burner
account.
His latest post featured the very photo he’d sent me last night, the one where I was stepping out of Aaron’s car, and from the angle, it almost looked like Aaron had his arm around me. My face had been pixelated beyond recognition, but anyone who knew me could connect the dots.
Below that were more photos–snapshots of Nicolas and me taken over the course of our year–long relationship.
Accompanying them was a long, rambling rant about Aaron “stealing” his girlfriend, how we had been madly in love when Aaron supposedly “interfered,” painting himself as the ultimate victim.
And at the end? A twenty–minute audio recording. I pressed play out of morbid curiosity, and Nicolas‘ voice, altered to sound deeper and more dramatic, filled the room.
“Aaron Ford, you’ve got everything–your family’s wealth, your status–why did you have to ruin my relationship?”
Aaron’s voice came next, calm and composed. “I haven’t done anything. Breaking up was her choice, nothing to do with me.”
There was a sudden, sharp sound–a hand slamming onto a table.
“You’re the one who got people to tag her, aren’t you? That’s how she found my burner account! No one in real life knew about it. How else could she have figured it out?”
“Even if you love her, you shouldn’t have used such dirty tricks.
Nicolas droned on in that self–important tone of his, spewing wild accusations and whining like a spoiled child who didn’t get his way.
What the hell was all this? He lost his mind?
Either way, his imagination deserved an award.
