Page 122 of Cruel Riches

“That’s probably part of the reason why she’s so suspicious—because it doesn’t really sound like me,” I went on. “She knows my mannerisms and the way I talk. So if I write the next message instead of you, she’ll know it’s definitely me she’s talking to. Then she’ll finally get off your back.”

Nate tilted his head slightly to one side. “You really think I’m stupid, don’t you?” he said. “The second I hand that phone to you, you’ll call 911.”

“No. I swear, this isn’t an escape attempt,” I said, trying my best to keep the quaver out of my voice. “You can stand over me and watch me write the message so you know I’m not saying anything weird to Laurel. I just want her to stop being suspicious.”

“Why? Because you want to help me?” he replied with a disbelieving smirk.

I gritted my teeth. “No, of course not. I just know that if she’s feeling suspicious of our situation, it’s because she’s worried, and I don’t want her to feel bad. You’d understand that if you had any real friends who you actually cared about.”

Nate rubbed the back of his neck as he considered it, brows dipping low on his forehead. “Fine. I’ll bring your phone down here,” he finally said. “But if you try to pull any shit with me, you’ll regret it.”

Yes! The first stage of my plan was complete.

I suppressed my delight and nodded slowly, like it wasn’t that big of a deal. “Okay.”

Nate left without another word. He returned twenty minutes later, holding my phone.

“Here,” he said brusquely, handing it to me. “Remember, I need to see everything.”

I nodded and licked my dry lips as I composed a new message to Laurel. It needed to be clear to her that I needed help, but it also needed to be casual enough to pass for a normal friendly text so that Nate wouldn’t be suspicious.

Hey, thanks for sending all the notes! I totally owe you. Do you know if the lecture material from the first four weeks is going to be in the exam for our writing class? Also, re. the psychology notes– there are a few things I don’t get in there. Will probably need your help with it at some point if that’s possible. Anyway, thanks again! Xoxo

I held the phone up to Nate, who was looming over my shoulder. “Is this okay?”

He nodded. “That’s fine. Send it.”

I took a deep breath and sent the message. Two ticks appeared a few seconds later, letting me know that Laurel had seen it, and then three dots appeared. She was typing a response.

When it finally came through, my heart sank.

You’re welcome for the notes! Glad they’re helping. I think the exams will cover everything. BTW, what psych notes are you talking about? I only emailed you the stuff from our critical thinking and writing courses. Or was that a typo? Lol.

Her response didn’t make any sense. In the secret textbook note she left for me earlier, she said she’d understand a plea for help from me even if it was vague, but judging by this text, it seemed as if she hadn’t understood anything at all. On top of that, she’d only mentioned emailing things to me. Nothing about dropping off the notes in person.

Suddenly I felt as if a block of ice had dropped straight through my guts. I slowly looked up at Nate.

“Something wrong?” he asked. The smug look on his face was like a needle in my heart. “Is Laurel not going to help you the way you thought she would?”

My hands began to tremble with a mixture of terror and fury. “It was you,” I whispered, feeling my so-called triumph collapsing around me like a castle made of sand.

Laurel hadn’t come over to deliver any notes today. Nate simply accessed my emails and printed the notes she sent me a few days ago, after we ran into her at Blackthorne, and then he must’ve collected some textbooks from my dorm to bring to me along with those notes. He added in the random psychology textbook from his own collection, knowing I’d probably read it first, and he highlighted all the words on the pages to make me believe that help was really out there.

He enjoyed messing with me like this; mentally building me up while secretly preparing the ground for my downfall. His ability to predict my every move meant he would always be one step ahead of me no matter what I tried. He knew I would ask to keep the notes and books out of sheer boredom this morning, and he knew I’d find the encoded message and attempt to contact Laurel.

Once again, I should’ve known what was happening. Should’ve known he would never let me win so easily. He only wanted me to think I was winning so he could snatch my victory out of my hands and revel in my crushing disappointment when I realized my escape attempt had failed. He’d take pleasure in punishing me for it, too.

The thought made bile rise in my throat. I couldn’t look at his smug face for a second longer. He was like a black hole, sucking the light and life out of everything in his path.

“What was me?” Nate asked, voice dripping with amusement.

“You know what I’m talking about,” I muttered. “The note in the book.”

“Took you long enough to figure it out.” He stepped closer and put his hand under my chin, forcing it upward.

My stomach coiled as our eyes met, blending fear with attraction. “Why?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. I just wanted to hear him say it.

He smiled thinly. “Something occurred to me last night. I’ve told you the same thing over and over again: don’t test me. I know it’s just a figure of speech, but it made me realize that I should be testing you to see if you’d try to run again. Now I know the answer.”

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