Page 48 of Captured Heart

“You’re not old,” I tease, taking a bite of the pie. “And this is amazing, as always.”

She smiles. “So, I see your study buddy finally found you.”

My fork pauses midair. “Study buddy?”

“Yes, the young man who left your house early this morning. He came by last week Tuesday looking for you, told me you two study together.”

My stomach tightens. “Tuesday?”

She nods, sipping her tea. “Mm-hmm. He said he was picking up a biochemistry textbook. Tall, strong-looking fellow. I figured it was Corey, the one you’re always working with.”

A chill runs down my spine. That description confirms that it was Alex, not Corey. But I only met Alex on Wednesday. Corey told me he met Alex the same day I did, so what the hell was he doing at my house onTuesday? And how did he know I was studying biochemistry before we even met?

I force a smile, though my mind is racing. “What else did he say?”

Mable hums, her eyes drifting toward the window. “Not much. When I told him you weren’t home, he said he’d meet you at the library. And then he left.”

My blood runs cold and the hairs prickle at the back of my neck. We chat for a little while longer, but I can’t focus. My mind keeps circling back to what she said. When I finally excuse myself and head home, my chest feels tight, and my palms are clammy.

As soon as I step inside, something catches my eye. The vase on the hallway table has the camera facing the wall again. It wasn’t like that yesterday.

Alex.

He’s the only one who’s been in my house. He must have turned it. Again.Why? The questions gnaw at me all day, my mind spiraling with possibilities. I try calling him, but he doesn’t answer. I’m restless, pacing up and down. Something weird is going on, and I need to find out what it is.

IT’S LATE FRIDAY AFTERNOONwhen Alex finally shows up. He probably had about fifteen missed calls from me, so I’m not surprised he’s here. Looking at him now, it’s like looking at a stranger. And then I realize...heisa stranger. I don’t know this guy. He infiltrated my life, and I have no idea why. I can’t think of a single reason.

“Hey.” The greeting ignites something sharp and angry inside me because he’s so casual about whatever he’s covering up. “I saw you called. Is something wrong?”

“Yes, something’s wrong,” I bite out. “I want to know what the hell is going on.”

He remains calm, his face unreadable. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. My neighbor told me she saw you at my house before we even met. What the hell were you doing here, Alex?”

He lets out a slow breath, his voice firm but cold. Those gray eyes that always held that hint of danger skim over me in a way that I can only describe as...calculated. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes, I want to know!” My voice rises, trembling with anger and maybe even a little fear. “Because I feel like an idiot. I want to know why you pursued me the way you did. Why did you dupe me into thinking were...friends? Was this all just some sick game to you?”

“It wasn’t a game.” His voice is deathly quiet, but there’s a violent edge to it that cuts straight through me.

“Then what was it?”

He leans back against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “You were a target.”

I shake my head, trying to recover because it feels like someone just slapped me. “What?”

“Daughter of a high-profile lawyer. You were a very easy, very unsuspecting target,” he continues, his voice colder than I’ve ever heard. “All I had to do was play my cards right, and I’d get a big payout at the end. That’s why I pursued you. I was only in it for the money.”

I step back, shaking my head as tears sting my eyes. “You were trying to con me? Swindle me formoney? Is that what you’re saying?”

His jaw tightens, and his eyes flicker with something. Regret? Guilt? I don’t know. “What I’m saying is that you were a very lucrative opportunity. I’d have been stupid not to take it.”

My voice cracks, my throat closing so tight I choke on the words as they stumble out of me. “So, what? None of it was real? Not the talks, the movies, the crap about you just wanting us to be friends...nothing? You were just after my father’s money the whole time?”

He hesitates, just for a moment, but it’s enough to make me hope for a different answer. Then his expression hardens along with his tone. “It was real enough to get what I wanted. But now it’s done. We’re done. Don’t overthink it and make it more than what it was.”

The unabashed brutality of that statement breaks something inside me. It’s the cold indifference in his tone, the way he refuses to meet my eyes, like I’m no more significant than a pawn in a game he’s already won. Deep down, I know I wasn’t emotionally invested enough to be devastated. But my heart still feels so heavy. He said he used me. And that’s exactly how I feel. Used. Manipulated.

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