Chapter 1:

“You’re sleeping with my best friend.”

The words hung in the air like a sentence. Aria didn't shout it. Didn't cry it. She stated it—cold, clear, the way you'd announce a traffic accident.

Ethan's face went white. His arm was still reaching for the sheets, his body half-tangled in them. On the other side of the bed, Lena froze, her dark hair cascading over bare shoulders. For three full seconds, nobody moved.

"Aria, I—" Ethan started.

"Don't." Aria's hand was still on the doorknob. She'd come home early from work to surprise him with reservations at that Italian place he loved. Instead, she got this.

"Just... don't."

She turned to leave.

"Wait!" Lena's voice cracked. "Aria, please, it's not what—"

"Not what it looks like?" Aria paused in the doorway, her grip tightening on the frame. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like my boyfriend is in bed with my best friend. That's exactly what it looks like."

Ethan was out of bed now, scrambling for his boxers.

"You don't understand. This was a mistake. One time, I swear—"

"You've been sleeping with her."

It wasn't a question. Aria could see it in the ease between them, the way Lena wouldn't meet her eyes, the empty wine glasses on the nightstand. This wasn't spontaneous. This was practiced.

"How long?"

"Aria, come on—"

"How. Long?"

"Six months," Lena whispered.

The number hit like a punch. Six months. Aria had been planning their engagement party. She'd picked out venues. She'd asked Lena to be maid of honor three weeks ago, and Lena had cried happy tears.

"Three years," Aria said softly, looking at Ethan. "Three years together. And you couldn't even wait until I left for work to do this in my bed?"

Her bed. His bed. Their bed. The bed they'd picked out together from that showroom in Manhattan.

"I'm sorry," Ethan said, but he sounded more panicked than sorry.

"I don't know what I was thinking. It was stupid. We can fix this. Please, Aria, just let me explain—"

She was already walking away. Not running. Not crying. Just walking, down the hallway of the apartment they shared, past the photos of them laughing at the beach, past the engagement photo shoot they'd done last month.

Behind her, she heard Ethan calling her name. Then Lena's voice: "Let her go. Just let her calm down."

Aria made it to the living room before her legs gave out. She sank onto the couch—the couch where she and Lena had watched Netflix every Friday for the past five years. The couch where they'd drunk wine and talked about dating disasters and dream weddings.

She reached for her phone to call someone, then realized there was no one to call. All her friends were Ethan's friends, or they were mutual, or they were Lena's. Three years of building a life, and it all turned out to be quicksand.

Her phone buzzed.

Unknown Number:

"Walk to the corner. Now. Don't tell anyone."

Aria stared at the message. Scammers. Had to be scammers. Or worse. She deleted it.

Her phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number:

"I saw what just happened. I know who you are, Aria Collins. And I can help you, but only if you come right now."