Tom and I spent the next few days doing some discreet digging into Zoe's past. With a little creative internet stalking, we were able to piece together more details about her college years and the fateful betrayal that had shaped her so profoundly.
"Check this out," Tom said one evening, tapping away at his laptop. We were holed up in a quiet corner of a cafe near campus, safe from prying eyes and ears. "I found an old blog from one of Zoe's freshman dorm-mates."
I leaned over to look at the screen, scanning the entries from nearly fifteen years ago. The writing was amateurish but painted a vivid picture of Zoe's arrival on campus - a shy but brilliant girl from a small town, dazzled by the big city and the intellectual energy that crackled through the hallowed halls.
"Here, this part,"
