Chapter 4

Mike's face tightened at my laughter. He wasn't used to being laughed at.

"What's so funny, Liam?" he asked, his friendly tone starting to crack.

"You," I said simply. "You trying to buy my forgiveness with my own money. It's pathetic."

The rest of the group looked confused, but Mike and Sarah knew exactly what I meant. A flicker of fear crossed Sarah's face. Mike's expression hardened into a glare.

Realizing he was losing control of the public narrative, he shifted tactics. He dropped his arm from Sarah's shoulders and took a step back, his face a mask of deep disappointment.

"You know what? Fine," he announced to the group, his voice loud enough for them all to hear. "If Liam is going to be like this, then the party is off. The ski trip is off. Everything is off."

He sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. "I was trying to do something nice for everyone, but clearly, Liam doesn't appreciate it. He's ruined it for all of us."

He was a master at shifting blame. Instantly, I became the villain who had cancelled their fun, their free vacation.

He wasn't done. He turned to the group, his voice laced with manufactured sadness.

"I was so excited to give you guys your presents tonight," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I got the new iPhone for Sarah, those designer headphones for Kevin... I even had a special bottle of whiskey for Professor Thompson's end-of-term gift."

He let the words hang in the air, a poisoned dart aimed directly at the group's self-interest. He wasn't just cancelling a trip; he was taking away tangible, expensive gifts that they now believed they were entitled to.

The effect was immediate and predictable. The group's confused expressions morphed into open hostility, all of it directed at me.

"Are you serious, Liam?" Kevin snapped. "He was going to get us all that stuff? What is wrong with you?"

"Yeah, man," another friend, a girl named Chloe, chimed in. "Just because you're having a bad day, you have to ruin it for everyone else? That's really selfish."

They swarmed around Mike, offering him sympathy, patting him on the back. "Don't worry about it, Mike. It's not your fault." "He's just being a jerk."

I stood there, isolated, as they closed ranks around their benefactor. It was disgusting, but also grimly satisfying. I was seeing them all for who they truly were: shallow, materialistic, and easily manipulated.

While they were busy consoling the viper, my mind was racing, piecing together the next stage of my plan. I thought about the credit card. It wasn't just any card. It was the Centurion Card from American Express, the famous "Black Card." My father had one, and I was the sole supplementary holder on his account. The card Mike had was a supplementary card to my supplementary card, a tier down with fewer privileges and more restrictions, something Mike clearly didn't understand.

He thought he held all the power. But the real power, the primary account, was mine to control. A key feature of the account was the security protocol. Three incorrect PIN attempts on any card would not just lock that card, but trigger a temporary security freeze on the entire account pending verification from the primary holder. Me.

Mike was arrogant. He probably didn't even know the PIN for the card he had. He always just swiped it and signed his name with a flourish, as if he were a celebrity. He was about to get a very rude awakening.

I watched him as he soaked up the attention from the group. He had a smug little smile on his face, the look of a man who believed he had won. He had successfully isolated me and painted me as the bad guy, all while solidifying his own position as the generous, long-suffering leader of their pack.

He thought he was in complete control. He thought he had my money, my girlfriend, and my friends.

He had no idea that he was walking into a trap that I had set just for him. He was a fly, buzzing happily, completely unaware of the spiderweb waiting just ahead. And I was the spider, watching patiently from the shadows.