The recording played on loop in my head: Sophie's voice, low and tinged with smug satisfaction—"Don't dig too deep, sweetheart. Some things are better left buried." That wasn't just a confession. It was a warning.
But I didn't take well to warnings.
After she left, I sent the recording to Alex with a single message: We've got her.
He replied almost instantly: Then let's end this.
But ending it wouldn't be that simple. If Sophie and Daniel were hiding something this big, I needed more than a single veiled confession. I needed to unravel everything—expose every lie, every shadow they'd hidden behind. I needed to cut the thread at the center of their web.
The next morning, Alex and I met in the library—an odd place for plotting, but quiet enough that no one would overhear. We sat at a tucked-away table between two towering bookshelves.
"We need to know what they were trying to hide that night," I said. "Why drug me? What were they afraid I'd find out?"
Alex pulled out a folder filled with screenshots and printouts. He flipped to a photo taken that night, zoomed in on the background. Daniel, Sophie, and… someone else. A guy I didn't recognize.
"Who's that?" I asked, leaning closer.
"Name's Ethan Carter. Tech student. Got kicked out a semester after your birthday party."
"Why?"
He hesitated. "Assault."
My blood went cold.
"What does this have to do with me?"
"We don't know yet," he said. "But Ethan was there, and after that night, he was expelled, and you… you barely remembered anything."
I leaned back, swallowing hard. "Are you saying something happened to me that night and I don't remember?"
Alex didn't answer. He didn't need to. The look in his eyes said everything.
"I want to talk to him," I said.
"That's a risk," Alex replied. "If they find out—"
"They won't. I'll be careful."
Tracking Ethan down wasn't easy. He had no social media, no forwarding address. Eventually, Alex pulled a few strings and found a trail—he was working at a mechanic shop just outside the city.
I took a bus there the next day, alone.
The place was rundown, the air thick with oil and gasoline. Ethan emerged from under a car, wiping his hands on a rag, and looked at me with wary eyes. He recognized me instantly.
"Stacey."
My heart dropped. "You know who I am?"
He nodded. "How could I forget?"
I stepped forward. "What happened the night of my birthday, Ethan?"
He looked away. "You shouldn't be here."
"Please," I said. "I need the truth."
He hesitated, jaw clenched, then motioned toward the back office. Inside, he lit a cigarette, exhaled a plume of smoke, and finally spoke.
"That night, Daniel said you were 'a little too curious' about him and Sophie. Said you were asking too many questions. He gave you the drink and told me to keep an eye on you. But you passed out before I could even get near you."
I felt a sick relief. Nothing happened. But still—drugging me?
"He used me as a scapegoat," Ethan said bitterly. "A rumor went around that I harassed you. Campus security ran with it. No proof. Just whispers. I got expelled. My life got screwed up, and you—well, you didn't even know it happened."
My hands trembled. Daniel hadn't just betrayed me. He had destroyed someone else's life to cover his tracks.
I gave Ethan my number, told him I might need him later. He shrugged and said, "I owe you nothing. But I might show up. Just to watch them burn."
Back on campus, Alex had another discovery. He'd hacked—well, "strategically accessed"—Daniel's cloud account. What we found chilled me to my bones.
Photos.
Hundreds of them.
Of me.
Some I didn't even know had been taken. Some in my dorm window. Some while I was asleep.
They'd been collecting them. Monitoring me.
"What is this?" I whispered, scrolling through them, my stomach churning.
"I think… this goes deeper than cheating," Alex said grimly. "This is obsession."
Or blackmail. Or leverage. Or something far more twisted.
We sat in silence, the laptop screen casting a ghostly glow between us.
"I think Daniel's been using you for more than just a relationship," Alex said finally. "I think this was planned. Calculated. And Sophie? She's not just playing along. She's in on it."
I leaned back in my chair, overwhelmed. "Why me? Why go through all this?"
Alex met my eyes. "Because you were the perfect cover. The perfect girl. No one would suspect you were being watched."
That night, I didn't sleep. I stared at my ceiling, replaying every moment with Daniel and Sophie, every lie I'd brushed off, every time I'd felt eyes on me and told myself it was nothing.
It was something.
I wasn't just betrayed. I was hunted.
But now I knew.
And now I had power.
In chess, the queen is the most powerful piece. She moves across the board with purpose, cutting down everything in her path.
That night, I became the queen.
And I was ready to make my first move.