When I got inside, I locked every door and window, turned off my lights, and sat on the floor in the dark. I kept rereading the message, trying to make sense of it.
She told us everything.
It couldn’t be Lily. It just couldn’t. But at the same time, it made too much sense. She knew about the scholarship money, about my fake story, about the storage unit. Maybe she’d felt betrayed, and telling our mom and Mark was her way of getting back at me.
Still, something didn’t fit. My family was selfish, but they weren’t clever. The messages, the photo outside the bank—those were precise, calculated. That wasn’t them.
The next morning, I went to Lily’s place again. Her car was gone, but her neighbor told me she’d left early for class at the teaching hospital downtown.
I waited in my car outside the building until her shift ended. When she came out, I got out of the car and called her name. She froze when she saw me. I told her we needed to talk, that I was scared, that someone was threatening me. I could tell she wanted to walk away, but she saw my face and hesitated.
We sat in my car. I told her about the texts, about the photo, about how someone knew where the ticket was. Her eyes widened when I said that word—ticket.
“Wait,” she said. “You’re saying you actually won?”
For Complete Cooking STEPS Please Head On Over To Next Page Or Open button (>) and don’t forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.
