Chapter 2: The Woman With the Photograph
The Ferrari's engine faded into the distance, but Ethan was still standing there, rooted to the spot, his face burning under the afternoon sun.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Then one of the girls — the one who had been closest to Ethan all afternoon — quietly picked up her bag and stepped back.
"I'm not standing next to someone who lies like that," she said flatly.
"In front of everyone."
That broke the silence.
The group began to scatter, one by one, until Ethan was almost completely alone on that wide, empty stretch of asphalt.
He pulled out his phone with shaking hands.
He needed to call someone.
Anyone.
But before he could dial, a message came through from a number he didn't recognize.
*"That was brave.
Or stupid.
Hard to tell with you, Ethan."*
He stared at the screen.
His thumbs hovered.
He had no idea who sent it — but whoever it was, they had been watching the whole thing.
He looked up slowly, scanning the parking lot.
And that's when he saw her.
A woman standing near the far entrance, arms folded, watching him with an expression he couldn't read.
She didn't look away when their eyes met.
She just reached into her jacket, pulled out something small — and held it up.
It looked like a photograph.
---
What's in that photograph — and who is this woman?
What she knows about Ethan is far worse than anyone in that parking lot could have imagined.
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