"Everyone, look! Here's the transfer history. Over eight thousand dollars in just the last two months! Now that she's got the money, she acts like she's never met me!"

I stared at the screen, trying to make sense of it. The numbers were real—real money, real transfers.

But the person chatting with him wasn't me. I didn't even have an account. How could I have taken his money?

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

"Transfer records don't lie…"

"But that phone of hers really is a basic phone. How do you explain that?"

"What if she's faking it? People will do anything for money these days."

Just then, a campus security officer pushed through the crowd, already looking irritated.

"What's going on here? Another relationship dispute? How many times do I have to tell you people, don't cause scenes on campus!"

The moment Mr. Pierce spotted him, he latched on, voice cracking with desperation.

"Please, you have to sort this out for me!"

"I rode a hard-seat train for over twenty hours to find her! She played me, led me on, and took my money!"

"Look at these chats, look at these photos! That's her, isn't it?"

The messages on his phone left nothing to the imagination.

*Baby, I reaaally want that little dress…*

*You're the best ♡ mwah mwah*

But what shook me were the photos in the chat history.

Photos of me in the classroom. In the cafeteria. Even inside our dorm room.

The security guard looked at the photos, then at me, open disgust on his face.

"These are clearly you."

Susan gasped, putting on a perfect show of shock.

"Rebecca—oh my God, how could you do this to someone?"

I shook my head, brow tight. "I didn't send any of these messages. I don't even own a smartphone. How could I have been texting him?"

The guard rolled his eyes, not buying a word.

"What if you've got another phone hidden somewhere?"

Then something on Mr. Pierce's screen caught my eye: a purchase record.

A pale yellow dress. I recognized it immediately. Susan had worn it just a couple of days ago.

I whipped my head toward her. "That dress, isn't that your—"

"She's hiding another phone, obviously!"

Susan cut me off instantly, rushing over her words. "What young person doesn't have a smartphone? Don't believe a word she says!"

I looked at her flustered face, and a thought hit me out of nowhere.

Susan had been getting packages delivered almost every single day lately.