5
506words
We were close. Until school. I excelled, got scholarships. Michael? Average. Struggled. Barely got into college—and only after I tutored him relentlessly.
But all these years, Michael never forgot our bond. Sent money, essentials. Kept an eye out.
After I started dating Lucas? He backed off. Our contact became mostly money transfers.
Seeing him now surprised me. "Michael? Shouldn't you be working?"
He gave me a look. Dry. Knowing.
"If I was working, who'd take you in?"
My situation hit me hard. Ten years. This was the result.
Seeing my face fall, Michael softened. He handed me a helmet.
"Get on."
I went home with Michael. That night, I drank myself stupid. Poured out everything I’d done for Lucas.
"I thought he was forever. I made him study guides. Helped him pick his major..."
"You know, Michael? When his research needed funding? I gave him my life savings. Twenty grand..."
"Never mentioned it. He just said, 'Thanks for supporting the research.' One sentence. For twenty thousand dollars!"
"After that? I worked myself ragged. Took care of him. I thought he saw it... valued it..."
Drunk, I spilled it all. Michael recorded it. Played it back the next morning.
"Sounds like True Love’s Last Stand," he said, voice flat. "Still hung up on Lucas?"
He looked at me, expression unreadable.
"Emily, remember? You lost your baby. Your chance to have more. Isn't it time to cut your losses?"
I paused. Watched the video silently. Then spoke.
"You misunderstand. I remember those things not for him. To settle accounts."
I could have handled an affair. But knowing his love was never truly mine? Unforgivable.
Michael blinked. Pulled out a thick stack of papers.
"Good. You still have some sense. Thought I’d never get to use these."
I didn't know what they were. Flipping through, I gasped. Looked at Michael.
"Where did you get this?"
"Where do you think? Dug it up. For you."
Michael put his hands on my shoulders. Firm. Steady.
"Emily. I believe in you. Fight back."
The papers held Vivian's past. Hospital records. Police reports.
Proof. My treatment was flawless. By the book.
Neither the Campbells nor Lucas had any legal ground.
I posted it all online. Linked Vivian's secret accounts.
Lucas wanted me to take the fall?
I'd clear my name.
And I'd make sure he saw his "saintly" dead love’s ugly truth.
At the end, I added one line.
"Lucas, shackle yourself to your ghost all you want. Ten years down the drain. But the $20K? Pay me back."
The scandal had cooled while I was hospitalized.
The evidence reignited it. Explosively.
Comments flipped. Sympathy poured in.
"Oh my god. Poor Emily! Scammed for a decade! Heart, body, andmoney!"
"Pay her back, you jerk!"
"Pay up! Don't hide just because she's dead!"
"And Vivian? No saint either. Studying abroad? Partying hardcore over there!"
"LOL. Pure white moonlight? Yeah right."
Reading them eased the tightness in my chest.
Lucas reacted faster than I thought.
