“Holy shit.” Audrey’s eyes pop wide.
“I told them I believed it was Bianca, Cassidy, or Saffron who orchestrated this either with or without the studio’s permission, and they looked at me like I was crazy. As if something like this is outside the realm of what Hollywood would do to ensure the success of a franchise.”
“Did you tell Reeve about your suspicions?” she asks, idly plucking at the comforter.
“No. I know he appears to have seen the light, but I’m not sure he’d buy into my theory, and things will already be difficult enough for him on set in light of his statement. Plus, if I’m correct, he’s going to feel huge guilt for not believing me. I didn’t want to put that on him until, or if, I get proof.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Mom says, appearing in the room with a dinner tray. “Sorry, I wasn’t eavesdropping. Your door was open.” She sets the tray on my lap.
“It’s fine. I wasn’t saying anything you didn’t hear earlier.”
“Can I get you some dinner?” Mom asks Audrey, and she shakes her head.
“I ate in the cafeteria, so I’m good.” She tilts her head to the side, eyeballing Mom. “You think they’ve covered their tracks too well to be caught?”
Mom nods. “We’re not dealing with amateurs. Our best bet is finding those girls, but I’m guessing they have made them disappear and made it worth their while to keep quiet. We’ve hired a PI to try to locate them, and that’s our best chance at finding justice for Viv.”
Two weeks later—eight days before Christmas—Audrey shows up, clutching a crumpled letter in her hand. “It’s from Danny,” she excitedly says, thrusting it into my chest. “The student who took over his dorm found it under the bed when he moved in.”
I trace my finger over my name, scrawled in Danny’s messy handwriting, before ripping open the envelope and reading his words.
“What does it say?” Audrey asks, impatience peppering her tone.
“That he’s sorry. He didn’t want to betray me, but his dad is ill with cancer, they don’t have medical insurance, and when someone showed up on campus offering him two hundred K to spy on me, he couldn’t turn them down.”
“That rat bastard.”
“Did you know his dad was sick?” I lift my head briefly from the letter.
She shakes her head. “He never said a word to me.”
“Nor me.” A veil of sadness washes over me. “If he had just told me, I could’ve given him the money. One of the charities my parents spearhead is for this very thing. They distribute millions every year to people with illnesses who have no insurance.”
“Does he say who paid him?”
I shake my head as I finish reading the rest of the letter. “He signed an NDA, and he can’t disclose any of the details because he doesn’t have the money to give back anymore.”
“I can’t believe he was such an idiot! You were a really good friend to him, and he must’ve known if he’d told you the truth you would have done everything in your power to help his dad.”
I carefully fold the letter, placing it back in the envelope. I’ll get Dad to deliver it to the cops. “All of it is connected to those damn movies. I wish Reeve had never gotten the part.”
“I can’t believe the lengths they have gone to. All to try and split you two up? It’s disgusting. They can’t get away with it.” She paces the room, clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides.
“Well, unless we can find Danny or any of those girls, they will.”
“At least you can show Reeve that letter. Maybe then he’ll start coming around to your way of thinking.”
Reeve returns home three days before Christmas, but I’m busy completing my exams online, so we don’t get to spend time together until Christmas Eve, when he surprises me with a romantic candlelit meal at his house. After a gorgeous lobster and steak dinner and some expensive champagne, we retreat to my bedroom. Mom refuses to let me out of her sight at night, even though I’m feeling a lot better in the weeks since the attack. My concussion is more like a niggly occasional headache now, and the scratches and bruising have completely healed. My ribs still ache like a bitch, and I have another two weeks in my cast before it’s removed, but the doctors are pleased with my progress, and I should be fully recovered by the time I return to UCLA. I’ll need physical therapy for my wrist and fingers, but other than that, I should be fine.