Chapter 2

The Student Charity Gala was a blur of cheap decorations and earnest speeches in the university' s main hall.

I found a seat in the back, watching.

Brittany was in her element, gliding between groups, her laughter echoing a little too loudly. She wore a dress that looked expensive – probably bought with my parents' money, justified as a "networking essential."

The head of the student charity committee, a nervous sophomore named Mark, announced they were short of their fundraising goal.

"We're just five hundred dollars shy," he said, his voice cracking. "Every little bit helps."

This was Brittany' s cue.

She stepped forward, a sympathetic smile on her face.

"Oh, Mark, that' s such a shame. Let me help."

She opened her clutch and pulled out the supplementary credit card. The gold one.

"I' d be happy to cover the difference," Brittany announced, her voice ringing with false magnanimity. She handed the card to Mark.

He looked relieved. "Wow, Brittany, that' s incredibly generous of you! Thank you!"

I watched, my heart pounding softly. I had spoken to my dad. I' d told him I was worried Brittany might be a little careless with "emergency" funds, suggesting a temporary freeze or a very low limit for non-essential purchases until they could review her spending. He' d been hesitant, not wanting to seem untrusting, but I' d been gently insistent, citing a vague concern about "protecting her from potential overspending." He' d agreed to put a temporary hold on significant transactions without a direct verbal confirmation.

Mark swiped the card.

A pause. He swiped it again.

His smile faltered. "Uh, Brittany... it says declined."

A hush fell over the nearby students.

Brittany' s face froze. "What? That' s impossible. Try it again. It must be a mistake."

Mark tried again. "Still declined. Insufficient funds, or maybe a security hold?"

Color rushed into Brittany' s cheeks. Her eyes darted around, landing briefly on me. I kept my expression neutral.

"There must be some error with the bank," she stammered, her voice losing its confident lilt. "My guardians... they have very strict protocols. Sometimes these things happen with international accounts."

International accounts? Her lies were getting more elaborate.

Students were whispering now. The "wealthy, generous" Brittany Evans couldn't cover five hundred dollars.

This was my moment.

I stood up and walked towards Mark.

"Excuse me," I said, my voice calm and clear. "I can help."

I took out my own debit card, linked to my personal allowance – a modest sum, but enough.

"I can cover the five hundred," I said, handing Mark the card. "It' s a wonderful cause."

Mark looked surprised, then grateful. "Oh, Jess! Thank you so much! That' s fantastic."

He swiped my card. Approved.

The students around us murmured. Some looked at Brittany with confusion, others with dawning suspicion. Her carefully constructed image had taken a direct hit.

Brittany was staring at me, her eyes narrowed. The charm was gone, replaced by a flicker of something cold and calculating. She knew, or at least suspected, this wasn't an accident.

She forced a tight smile. "Well, that' s... wonderful, Jess. So glad it' s sorted." She quickly made an excuse about needing fresh air and practically fled the hall.

I felt a small, grim satisfaction.

This was only the beginning.

The next day, I called a number my father had used once for a sensitive business matter. A private investigator.

"Mr. Davies? My name is Jessica Miller. I need to hire you for a discreet background check."

I needed to know everything about Brittany Evans and her real connections. Especially any connection to a man named Spike Rourke.