The Price Of Trust
892 Words
I didn’t sleep.
Every sound felt too loud. The elevator down the hall. A car door slamming outside. Even the pipes in the walls sounded suspicious.
I kept replaying Mara’s voice.
Soft. Concerned. Careful.
You okay?
Still working with financial systems?
Your dad’s case ever get resolved?
I’d answered without thinking.
That was the betrayal.
Morning came gray and heavy. I made coffee and didn’t drink it. Just sat on the edge of my bed staring at my phone until it buzzed.
Unknown number.
I answered anyway.
“You were right,” Elias said. No greeting.
My stomach tightened. “About what?”
“It’s her.”
Silence pressed into my lungs. “How do you know?”
“The reporter who showed up at your door?” he said. “She didn’t find you through public records. She found you through a ‘concerned source.’ A close friend worried about your mental state.”
My grip tightened on the phone.
“She gave them my address.”
“Yes.”
“And my father’s history.”
“Yes.”
The word felt final.
“Why?” I asked.
“Money,” Elias said. “And pressure. Cross approached her weeks ago.”
Weeks.
She’d been talking to them before she called me.
“She told them you were unstable,” he continued. “Obsessed. That you blamed my company for your father’s collapse.”
A dry laugh left my throat. “So she didn’t lie. She just twisted it.”
“That’s how they do it.”
I closed my eyes.
“I trusted her.”
“I know.”
That made it worse.
“I want to confront her.”
Pause.
“That’s risky,” Elias said.
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
“I don’t,” I repeated. “If she’s going to sell my life, I want to hear it from her mouth.”
Another pause.
“Fine,” he said. “But not alone.”
We met in a café across town.
Public enough to prevent drama. Private enough for damage.
Mara was already there.
She looked the same. Same dark hair. Same habit of stirring her drink even when it didn’t need stirring.
For half a second, I almost doubted everything.
Then she smiled.
“Ava,” she said, standing. “You look—”
“Don’t,” I cut in. “Sit.”
She sat.
I didn’t order anything. I didn’t pretend this was friendly.
“How much did they pay you?” I asked.
Her face drained of color.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You gave them my address,” I said. “You gave them my job. You gave them my father’s name.”
Her lips trembled. “They contacted me.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“They said you were in danger,” she said quickly. “That you were involved with powerful people. That if I didn’t cooperate, they’d assume I was part of it.”
“So you sold me to protect yourself.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Did you take the money?” I asked.
Silence.
That was enough.
“They said it was just background,” she whispered. “They said it wouldn’t hurt you.”
I let out a quiet laugh.
“They dragged my name across headlines,” I said. “They used my father’s death for clicks.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I was scared.”
“So was I,” I said. “And I didn’t betray you.”
She reached for my hand.
I pulled back immediately.
“Don’t.”
Her hand froze mid-air.
“I didn’t think it would go this far,” she said.
“No,” I replied. “You just didn’t think it would reach you.”
Her shoulders dropped. “What do you want me to do?”
The question caught me off guard.
I hadn’t thought that far.
I stood.
“Nothing,” I said. “You’ve already done enough.”
I turned to leave.
“Ava,” she said, voice shaking. “They’re not done with you.”
I looked back at her.
“Neither am I.”
Outside, the air felt colder.
Elias was across the street, leaning against his car like he’d been there the whole time.
“It’s confirmed,” I said.
“I know.”
I exhaled slowly. “She wasn’t the only one.”
“No,” he said. “But she was the easiest.”
That stung.
“People you trust are always the easiest,” he added.
I looked at him. “You set this up.”
“I let it play out.”
“Again.”
“Yes.”
I crossed my arms. “You’re ruthless.”
“And you’re learning,” he said. “Which means you won’t make the same mistake twice.”
I watched strangers pass by, unaware how cheap loyalty could be.
“What happens to her?”
“She’ll be questioned,” he said. “Quietly.”
“And Cross?”
His jaw tightened.
“Now we move.”
The betrayal still hurt. More than I wanted to admit.
But pain has a way of sharpening you.
They used my past against me.
Next time, I’d make sure they regretted it.
- Writer
