They might be worse.
Liars. Murders. Cheaters.
“We’re exactly who she wanted us to be,” Eleanor added.
A silence settled abaft the air; it was thick, eerily suffocating, ringing loudly with truth and self-loathing.
They were liars.
“How do we even know that Jameson is the mystery guy, anyway?” Delilah’s finger traced the photo.
Lilia glanced around the group.
“There’s only one way to find out.”
Lilia stormed through the university halls the following morning, her thoughts a chaotic mess as she made her way toProfessor Jameson’s office. She didn’t knock, just barged in, her hand clutching the photograph tightly.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Lilia?” Professor Jameson greeted her with a composed smile, though his eyes flickered with curiosity at her sudden entrance.
“What is this?” Lilia demanded, thrusting the photograph onto his desk.
Jameson’s expression shifted from surprise to something unreadable. “Where did you get this?”
“Why was Willow going to your cabin in Cambridge?”
“Lilia—” Jameson started, but she cut him off.
“Were you sleeping with her?” The words came out harsher than she intended, but she didn’t care. She needed answers.
Jameson’s frown deepened. “Watch your tone, Ms. Chen. I understand that you’re obviously stressed, but that does not give you the right to barge in here and accuse me.”
“That wasn’t a no,” Lilia pressed, her gaze never leaving his face.
Jameson sighed heavily, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. “Sit, please.” He closed the door softly before taking his seat. “Willow was in trouble,” he began after a moment, rubbing a tired hand down his face.
“What kind of trouble?” Lilia asked, gnawing nervously on her bottom lip.
“She said someone was threatening her. She was attempting to leave town. She came to me, hysterical about it. I offered her a place to stay outside of town so that she could think about her decision a bit more.”
Lilia furrowed her brow. “Was it because of the letter?”
“Well, yes. She wasn’t sure who to trust. I figured that’s why she came to me.”
“So, you guys weren’t having an affair?” she asked, relief coating her tone.
Jameson blinked. “No, dear gosh, I would never. She was at the cabin because she needed somewhere safe to stay.”
“Did she ever figure out who the letter might’ve been from?”
“Not that I know of,” Jameson replied. “We never spoke again after that day. I assumed she used the cabin at her leisure. But then a couple of days later, the news broke.”
Lilia leaned back against her chair, the tension in her shoulders not fully easing. There were still too many questions and not enough answers, and she feared time was running out.
Chapter Seventeen
“Sorry, I’m late. I stopped to get . . . ” Delilah’s voice trailed off as she took in the scene before her. “Coffee. Do I even want to know?” she asked, stepping into Augustus’ apartment.
The place was a mess—-papers scattered everywhere, Willow’s journals lying open with pages torn out, and it looked like a tornado had ripped through. Augustus was kneeling on the living room floor, absorbed in the mess, his focus entirely on his laptop.
