Page 559 of Filthy Elites

“Is that their dog?”

I shake my head. “I’ve never seen one on the property.”

“Oh my god, do you think it died? That could be his villain origin story.”

I bark a laugh and keep scrolling. The dog appears again, but only a couple of times. Before I know it, I’ve look at every single one of his pictures, like a demented stalker.

I don’t know much more about him than I did when I started, to my frustration. “You want a drink?” I offer, to have something to do.

Lola starts to accept, but Morgan shakes her head. “No, not quite yet.” She spins on my desk chair, offering one of her rare, blindingly gorgeous victory smiles. “We’re through.”

She brings up a window. “This is a clone of his computer. The idiot’s still logged into just about everything, his emails, his iCloud. I have the passwords—and I temporarily redirected his messages to my phone, so we can authorize log ins if the programs sense anything…which they probably won’t. You’re using their wi-fi, right?”

I nod. Mr. Archer just extended the reach of his signal strengh so Audrey didn’t need to pay for wi-fi or TV.

“Okay, it looks like he’s automatically backing his phone up…” Her tongue licks her bottom lip. “Done. I removed this week’s backup. Let me scan the system for recent pictures…”

I clap enthusiastically. “You’re the best, Morgan.”

She snorts. “Please. You’ve slashed tires for me. This is nothing. He saved the picture, but I took care of it.”

“You removed it?”

Morgan grins again. “Nah. If he clicks on it, he’ll load a virus you usually get from porn sites. Tons of gross videos will launch and mess his system up. Those things are like cockroaches, too—so hard to remove.”

I could kiss her. “Let me pay you for your time, at least.”

She’s my friend, but I respect her work. She could have taken a shift today, or rested. Instead, she spent the better part of her morning and some of her afternoon cracking the Archer devices and online identities.

“Fine. Ten per hour. Forty bucks.”

I grimace, knowing she’s undercharging me by a lot. “I’d feel like I’m stealing your kidney. How much would you have charged your old clients for that?”

“Five hundred,” she replies without hesitation. “But you’re not a client, and you’re as broke as the rest of us, despite the house upgrade.”

I’m uneasy. She’s right and she’s wrong. I’ve kept what I earn since last year; Audrey’s job covers the bills, especially now since we don’t have to spend any money on rent or utilities. The fridge is full, the lights, heat, and AC stay on, and I haven’t had to help out in ages. My rink membership is fairly expensive, but other than that, I’ve been able to stash everything I make from the flower shop. My friends are the breadwinners of their households.

“I’ll transfer the five hundred, okay?” She opens her mouth, a protest ready. “No argument.”

I can’t afford to waste money—I don’t know where I’ll end up next year, and Audrey’s salary won’t stretch far enough to pay for my college expenses. But I asked for a service, and I’d hate to feel like I’m ripping off a friend who’s in more need than me.

“I—”

“Nope. Doing it right now.” I bring up my account. I already have her details—we’ve helped each other out many times.

“Half,” she puts in. “Send me half. I overcharge my clients ’cause they’re assholes wanting to spy on their mistresses or their rivals.”

Oh, that’s fair. “Half,” I agree, entering the amount on my app, and sending it over. “Done.”

She smiles and return to her screen. “Let me just copy his files and send them to you.”

“No need,” I say.

I’ve seen enough of his perfectly ordinary, picture-perfect life. Chase Archer is as normal as it gets.

Or he was, until me.

“All right, who wants a celebratory drink now? I feel Audrey’s secret stash of cava calling.”

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