Terror courses through my veins while my gaze is locked on the computer screen. I was so careful. How did someone figure it out? Tears sting my eyes, and I swat them away with the back of my shaking hand. Breathing becomes harder, shallow and jagged.

Ice crawls up my spine, and the sensation of eyes watching me makes me shift in my chair. I refuse to glance around, to fall into hysteria. There are no cameras in my office, no bugs on the landline. I check. Frequently. Hell, I don’t even use that phone. I don’t use my real name. No one knows I’m Jocelyn Ferro.

This threat had to originate in New York. The main problem is that this guy has my work email address. It’s not an idle threat. I work at a University that is very easy to find. The ramifications spiral through my mind and crawl across my skin.

My phone lights up and buzzes loudly. The noise throws me further into panic. For a second, I think it’s going to say, UNKNOWN CALLER. But it doesn’t say that.

LIZZIE CUNNINGHAM

The name flashes before me as the cell phone rings a second time, requesting a FaceTime chat.

My heart slows a little and I take another pull of air, trying to steady my facial features before answering. She can’t know that I’m rattled. Lizzie thinks I went nuts and ran away, but a best friend like her is too polite to verbalize those thoughts.

All the same, I see it in her eyes when we talk. It might be a different throw-away cell phone, but she’s got the same crinkle in the center of her forehead, the one that slightly lifts her brow that lets me know how she feels whether she says it or not. Disapproval. She doesn’t think I needed to run. But that’s based on what she assumes occurred that night. She doesn’t know the truth. No one does, not even me. In the end, it doesn’t matter what I do because Lizzie sides with me. Like always. She’s the sister I never had.

I swipe the screen and her face appears before coming into focus. She snaps her gum and grins at me. “Hey, girl.” She cocks an eyebrow with a swift tilt of her head. A dark lock of hair falls over her shoulder. Before I can greet her, she leans toward her screen and uses a voice that demands an answer, “What’s wrong.” It’s not a question, not really. Her green eyes lock with mine, warning me that bullshit won’t be tolerated.

A fake smile finds my face and slithers across it. It’s the Ferro way. Hide everything. Always hold it together, no matter what. “I’m fine. I just—”

She cuts me off, her face suddenly filling the entire frame of the screen. If she were standing before me, she’d be close enough to get caught in the splash zone of rapid firing words and spittle. Her voice is hushed, threatening. “You’re not fine.” She enunciates the final word sharply.

“Lizzie—”

“I can see it all over your face. You don’t think I know you? Fuck that, Jos. I do, and something is very wrong! I’ll be there are soon as you say the word. Tell me where you’ve been hiding and I’ll be there with the jet. I’ll fix this, Jos. It’ll be all right.”

I try to interrupt again, “Liz—”

Shaking her head sharply, she pulls the phone far enough back that I can see her finger flying as she speaks. It’s the Italian in her. “I’ll take care of anyone who fucks with you. No one messes with you, not while I’m around.” She practically growls the last few words.

My plastic Ferro façade cracks at her protectiveness. I smile again, but it’s the sad brokenness that I feel mixing with a death wish that pulls the corners of my mouth up into a mournful crushed hope of an expression. “Someone made me. He knows.”

Lizzie’s tiger sneer softens as her eyes widen. “Who?”

“I don’t know. I was finishing up work—”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh God, you and the job. You’re the only billionaire heiress who works. I told you I’d send you more money.”

“Lizzie.” I snap without meaning to. My jaw falls open as I search for words. This defeat feels like a heavy foot on my chest. Someone outplayed me and I didn’t see it coming. There were no clues at all.

Everything about my life in Texas is fake, but I have a feeling that’s not what this email is talking about. I’m sure they know I’m here—this was sent to my work email address. There’s only one secret that I guard even closer, because if they find out what I’ve done… My skin crawls. I don’t even want to finish the thought.

I rant, spelling out every worry running through my mind until sobs cling to the top of my throat. I tug at my hair with one hand and try not to cry. “I fucking hacked my hair off and colored it crayon-red! I used the best guy to make fake IDs and paid him to keep his mouth shut. If it was him, he’d ask for more money.”

Lizzie breaks in, “There’s no way it was him. He wouldn’t fuck with the Ferros. He’d rather have you as a client anyway.”

“Then who is it? Has anyone figured out what we did?”

The Kool-Aid hair-do helped disguise me but I still have the Ferro features. Thank God I didn’t get the blue eyes. People never remember that Bryan and I were the only Ferro children born with emerald green orbs instead of the sapphire hue that is as dominant as the Ferro nose. Thankfully, I had that Italian schnoz taken care of when I was younger. Graduation present. Or demand. It depends on how you look at it. Mother was insistent that we make my profile more feminine to match the nose Aunt Constance and mom had created. It presents an air that everything is real, even Ferro plastic surgery. No one knew about it. I simply vanished from society and when I reappeared my nose was slimmer and the bridge was lowered, sharp angular lines still intact.

“What’s been going on up there? Did they figure it out yet?”

“No one realizes what we did, Jos.” She leans back into a posh lime-green sofa that’s located in her bedroom in Manhattan. Her hand runs through her long dark locks, pushing the soft curls away from her face. My hair was just like hers until twelve weeks ago.

“Are you certain? It’s been longer than we expected and no one’s noticed I’m missing?”

“Right,” she snaps, pressing her hand to her ample chest, offended. “I didn’t blow my cover. Everyone still thinks I’m you.”

“How is that possible? That lie shouldn’t have held together this long.”

Lizzie snorts a dark laugh. “People see what they want to see. Dumb assholes with cameras glued to their faces, and your parents don’t care as long as you don’t shame them. I showed up at your house last night, tossed your bedding around to make it look like you finally spent a night at home, and no one looked for you. Not your parents or your brothers. No wonder why you couldn’t stand it anymore.”

I swallow hard. That’s the truth, the cold hard facts. The only one who cared about me is in the ground and I stole the happiness he could have had because of fucking Ferro rules. I’m a traitor. The worst kind.