When He Led Us On, He Got Zero

Chapter 4 A Drop of Dried Blood

I created a fake account—no name, no picture, no history—and clicked over to the Twitter profile I had found the day before.

The user ID said Molly. The profile picture showed a woman from behind, holding a rose bouquet. The same bracelet hung from her wrist.

I scrolled through all her old posts. Vincent appeared in the background of a lot of the photos.

Her latest update was from a week ago. She had posted a crying emoji, and the caption read, "Miss you. We're so close, but we can't even see each other."

A plan started forming in my head.

I sent her a private message, something vague on purpose.

Noelle: My old account got messed up. Message me here instead. No one's home tonight. Same place as before.

She wrote back fast.

Molly: Okay. Love you, babe.

I turned off my phone and looked out the car window at the city lights rushing by.

At some point, it had started to drizzle. Droplets slid slowly down the glass and blurred my view.

Every memory we had shared, every feeling I had held onto, I finally let it all go right then.

At nine o'clock that night, I sent a message to Vincent's father, Roland Joseph.

Noelle: Mr. Joseph, it's Noelle. Vincent's birthday is coming up, and I want to surprise him early. Would it be okay if I went to the villa to decorate? I want to give him a night he won't forget.

Ten minutes later, his reply came in.

Roland: Of course. That's very thoughtful of you. I'll make sure to get back on time as well.

I turned my phone screen so our driver, Quinn Grant, could see it. "Quinn, change of plans, take us to the Joseph Villa. And would you mind calling Phoebe for me? Tell her to bring the birthday gifts I prepared. Have her bring a few more people, too. The more, the merrier."

Quinn glanced at me in the rearview mirror and gave a small nod.

*****

Half an hour later, three cars pulled up in front of the Joseph Villa.

Phoebe stepped out of the first car. Five or six of our friends followed behind her.

These were all people from our social circle, close to us, and close to Vincent, too.

"Did you bring everything?" I asked with a smile.

Phoebe waved the party popper in her hand, then pointed at the champagne and cake boxes the others were carrying. "All set. What are you really up to?"

I said, "Just surprising him."

I pushed open the unlocked villa door.

Inside, it was pitch black.

"Vincent said he wanted to surprise me," I said to the group behind me, my voice low. "He told me to come in blindfolded, well, in the dark. Everyone, stay quiet. Don't ruin the mood."

We tiptoed through the entryway.

Faint sounds drifted from the living room, a woman moaning, muffled breaths, and the dull rhythm of skin against skin.

I stopped walking. Everyone behind me froze, too.

Phoebe grabbed my wrist. Her breathing quickened.

I pulled up the flashlight on my phone. The beam cut through the darkness and landed right in the center of the living room.

Vincent was facing away from us. He was completely naked.

Underneath him was a woman. Her long hair spilled across the couch. Her flawless skin glowed under the phone light.

Their clothes lay scattered on the floor.

His school shirt, the one I knew so well, was tangled up with a floral print dress.

The flashlight beam swept across her face for just a second. She turned her head.

There it was, the mole by her right eye. It looked like a drop of dried blood.

Vincent whipped his head around. The lust on his face turned into pure terror in an instant.

Time stopped.

Every single person there was stunned.