Chapter 1
My husband Jared had been overseas for six months for his studies, so it was just me and my daughter Serena at home. Every day I drove her to and from school.
Celeste, the mother of Serena's classmate, asked if we could carpool, saying it would help us look out for each other. I agreed.
She was warm, almost overly so, and every morning she'd hop into my car with some little snack she'd packed for us.
But there was one thing I couldn't stand. She loved poking around my private life. My job, my income, whether I was divorced. She never asked directly; she always wrapped it up in these fake-casual questions that felt like little needles.
I warned her to keep her boundaries. Told her if she kept prying, she could find another ride.
She quieted down for couple days. Then I stumbled onto a local gossip forum and saw a trending post.
[Deep dive! There's a single mom in my neighborhood driving a Porsche, living alone, rich and clueless. Anyone want to take her off my hands? I've got all her info. Highest bidder wins.]
A few days later, a black sedan started tailing my car.
And there was Celeste sitting in my passenger seat, silently texting someone.
*****
The post was blowing up. The comments were full of filth, men talking like they were picking meat off a shelf.
The poster went by "Let It Be". The IP address showed he was in my city.
He described the "main character" in detail. [Drives a white Cayenne, husband overseas and probably abandoned her, lives in Lakeview Heights and drops her kid at Westfield Kindergarten every morning at eight.]
He even mentioned the teddy bear charm on my daughter's backpack.
What chilled me the most was the photo attached.
Someone had taken it from the passenger seat.
It showed my profile, my phone on the console with the screen lit, the chat with Jared clearly visible.
The face was blurred lightly, but the coat I wore was unmistakable. It was the tan trench I had on last Wednesday.
And that day the only person who had sat in my passenger seat was Celeste.
My fingers went cold around my phone. Not from fear. From anger that felt sharp enough to cut.
I'd always treated Celeste kindly.
She lived a few blocks away. Her husband worked out of state year-round and she raised her daughter alone.
When she told me her electric scooter was freezing in winter and asked for a ride, she even tried to offer me gas money.
I refused. I thought it was no trouble. I thought I was helping a friend.
I never imagined she saw me as a product she could package and sell.
The final line in that post burned into my brain. [Message me if you are interested. I can provide her schedule and chances to meet her. Guaranteed. Price negotiable.]
Someone replied: [For real? A woman like that cannot be easy.]
Let It Be answered: [Relax. Husband is gone. She is lonely. Any guy with a plan can handle her. She is a fat sheep waiting to be carved. One job and you can live off it for years.]
I took a long breath, screenshotted everything, and turned off my phone.
The next morning I parked at the community gate as usual.
Celeste walked toward me with her daughter Amelia. She had a bright smile like she had nothing in the world to hide.
"Morning, Rebecca," Celeste greeted.
She opened the door, settled into the passenger seat and handed me a warm insulated bag.
"I made bagels early this morning. Still warm. Thought Serena might like them for breakfast," she said.
If I had not seen that post, I might have thought she was thoughtful. Maybe even sweet.
Now her smile made me feel something close to nausea.
"Thanks, but Serena already ate at home," I replied, my voice cold as ice, leaving the bag untouched.
Celeste paused for a beat, then acted like nothing happened. She buckled her seatbelt.
"Hey, Rebecca, shouldn't you get your car checked? Looks like that warning light is on," she said.
She leaned forward as if studying the dashboard. Her eyes drifted toward my phone.
I flipped my phone over and set it in the console.
"It's not on. You're seeing things," I said, my tone icy.
Her smile twitched. She pulled out her phone and started typing quickly.
We rolled onto the main road, and I glanced at Celeste through the rearview mirror.
I watched her closely in the mirror.
Her fingers were flying over her phone, totally locked in, and every so often, she'd flash this creepy little grin.
At the same time I noticed the black Hyundai behind us. Not close enough to touch, not far enough to lose.
I changed lanes. It changed lanes.
I sped up. It sped up.
I saw the light turn red ahead and gently hit the brakes.
Celeste suddenly looked up and said, "Rebecca, you drive so steady. But this intersection has tons of accidents. You really have to be careful."
As soon as the words left her mouth, a deafening crash echoed through the car.
The car jolted forward. The seatbelt slammed against my ribs.
My daughter screamed in the backseat.
We'd just been rear-ended.