Page 121 of Cruel Riches

Laurel had delivered five textbooks altogether—two technical writing books, two media studies books, a critical thinking book, and a psychology book.

Frowning, I turned the thick psychology book over in my hands, wondering why she dropped it off. Even though our Intro to Critical Thinking professor occasionally discussed certain psychological theories in her lectures, I couldn’t recall this particular book being on the required reading list for the course. It looked interesting, though. Psychology was a cool subject.

I decided to read the book from cover to cover, even the boring introductory sections, because I had nothing better to do with my time.

When I got to the fourth page, something odd caught my attention. Laurel had highlighted two words.

It is.

My forehead wrinkled as I stared at them. Why would she highlight those two words and nothing else?

I shrugged it off and turned the page. Perhaps she was testing her highlighter to make sure it hadn’t run out of ink, or maybe her hand had slipped and accidentally marked the words.

On the eighth page, I noticed another bright yellow highlighter mark. This time, it covered the capital L in a famous psychologist’s name—Thomas Laplace. On the ninth page, the word ‘are’ and a period were highlighted.

A spark of hope that had died inside me flared back to life as I mentally connected the words I’d seen so far.

It is L are.

It had to be some sort of message from Laurel. There was no way the markings were simply a coincidence.

I didn’t have a pen or pencil to keep track of everything, so I had to remember it all as I went through the book and scanned each and every page for more highlighted parts. Eventually, I had a full message.

It is L. Are you all right? Am concerned. Get a note to me if possible. I will understand even if vague.

I almost cried with joy. Laurel obviously hadn’t believed the police when they told her everything was fine at the Lockwood estate, and she wasn’t willing to drop it until she was able to speak with me privately.

I leaned against the wall and chewed the inside of my cheek as I considered a way to get a message back to her. It didn’t seem possible. Unless…

I sat bolt upright, heart pounding as an idea struck me. It could work, as long as I was careful.

I waited until Nate showed up to give me dinner. When he dropped the plate on the floor, he smirked at the book in my lap. “How’s the studying going?” he said in a mocking tone.

Resisting the urge to tell him to go fuck himself, I lifted my shoulders in a listless shrug. “It’s better than doing nothing, I guess,” I muttered.

Before he could turn to leave again, I scooted over to the end of the bunk. “Can I ask you something?”

Nate frowned. “What?”

“Would I be able to text Laurel?”

“You’re kidding, right?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

I held up a palm. “Just listen,” I said, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible. “You want her to stop being suspicious of you, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I think I should thank her for dropping off those books and notes for me, and maybe ask her some questions about the next assignment,” I said. “Ignoring her would make her more suspicious of the whole situation, because we’re friends. It would just be weird.”

“Good point. I’ll text her from your phone.”

“No, I think I should do it,” I said, hoping he couldn’t hear my pounding heartbeat.

His eyes narrowed again. “Why?”

“Because it makes sense to do it that way,” I said, lifting my brows. “Up until now, you’ve been texting her pretending to be me, right?”

“Yes.”

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