Page 165 of My Ruthless Neighbor

“What is it?” I ask, getting a bit nervous by the way they both are looking at me. With… pity.

Maybe there’s another article about my life. Ever since I’ve gone viral, the journalists have taken great interest in my life. Especially my past.

Couple days ago, I read an online article that stated things about me that I wasn’t sure people wanted to know. Like the name of my school. And that I didn’t go to college.

It was kind of humiliating. But I got over it. With fame, you get unwanted attention.

They also somehow found out that I am Raleigh’s foster sister. I don’t get it. How do they dig so deep in someone’s past? Why do they do that? Is it that entertaining?

It’s scary to even think the resources they own to investigate about someone. And just for entertainment.

My whole body freezes. Did they find out about my lifebeforeentering the system?

They can’t find out about my parents. Right?

“Why are you both looking at me like that?” I ask with a trembling smile. My hands turn clammy.

“It’s nothing.” Hannah waves it off.

Through mastering the art of lying, I began developing another skill. A skill to detect when someone’s hiding the truth. It’s in the subtle movements and gestures of the person.

And my knowledge tells me, that Hannah is lying. It’s definitely not nothing.

Raleigh is awfully quiet. And when he’s quiet, there’s something really very wrong.

Only he knows how I ended up in foster system. And his unreadable expression is making my heart pound in my chest.

Wiping my palm on my jeans, I extend it. “Can I see?” The pounding of my heart leaps into a gallop as I wait. When she hesitates, I add, “Please?”

Worrying her lower lip, Hannah yields and passes the phone to me.

My panic lasts for about five seconds before my eyes fall on the phone screen.

I almost collapse with relief when I see the picture of a random couple dining.

I am so stupid, my brain just played thousands of scenarios. All bad ones. It’s not about my past. It’s about—

My brows snap together when I look down at the picture again.

This is not a random couple at all.

It’s him.

Archer.

His side profile is captured in the picture but there’s no denying that it’s him.

He’s sitting at a table by the window in what looks like an expensive restaurant. A petite brunette clad in a black off-the-shoulder dress sits across him.

My heart sinks. I stand there like a statue, staring at the phone in my hand.

Numbly, I scroll down. There are several pictures of them smiling and talking as they eat.

It looks intimate. It feels wrong to watch them. Like I am prying on their private time.

The article says that Archer Kim has been spotted having a cozy dinner with a beautiful mystery woman.

I grip the phone tighter as something breaks inside me.

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