Chapter 2 My Worst Enemy

I didn't sleep that night.

Not because I was afraid of the dark, or because I had suddenly developed a talent for overthinking things that didn't concern me.

I didn't sleep because I had spent the last six hours staring at a photograph that had no business existing.

Damien Blackwood stood beside my brother in the picture. They looked younger, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, and neither of them appeared particularly happy. Daniel had one hand shoved into his pocket, his expression unusually serious.

But it wasn't Damien who kept me awake.

It was Serena.

She stood in the background, half-hidden behind a doorway, watching them.

I had known Serena Whitmore since our first year at Westbridge High. She was the girl who saved me a seat during lunch, lent me her notes when I missed a class, and stayed on the phone with me the night Daniel's scholarship was withdrawn.

She had held my hand while I cried.

She had told me everything would be okay.

And now an anonymous stranger was suggesting she had something to do with the worst thing that had ever happened to my family.

I wanted to dismiss it as a coincidence. Photographs could be misleading. People could appear in the background of places they had no connection to.

But the message had been too specific.

Look at the people you trust most.

My phone lay beside my pillow. I picked it up for what must have been the hundredth time and opened the anonymous account.

No new messages.

I typed a reply.

WHO ARE YOU?

I waited.

Nothing.

I tried again.

HOW DID YOU GET THIS PHOTO?

Still nothing.

With a frustrated groan, I dropped my phone onto the mattress and covered my face with both hands.

This was ridiculous.

I was Amelia Hart. I planned things. I organized things. I didn't allow mysterious strangers on the internet to dictate how I felt about my best friend.

Most importantly, I did not allow Damien Blackwood to occupy this much space in my head.

Yet there I was, at two in the morning, thinking about both of them.

Wonderful.

Just wonderful.

By the time my alarm rang, I had reached a decision.

I would confront Serena.

And then I would confront Damien.

Separately, preferably.

Because if I confronted them at the same time, there was a very real possibility that I would do something that could get me suspended.

And my mother would never forgive me for getting suspended during my final year.

---

Serena was already waiting at the school entrance when I arrived the following morning.

She wore her usual perfect smile, her blonde hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She looked effortlessly beautiful, as if she had never experienced a sleepless night or cried over something she couldn't fix.

The sight of her made my stomach twist.

"Morning, sunshine!" she greeted me.

I stopped in front of her.

"We need to talk."

Her smile faltered.

"That sounds ominous."

"Good. Then you'll understand why I didn't put a smiley face in the message I sent you last night."

She blinked.

"You texted me?"

I stared at her.

"Serena."

"What?"

"I didn't text you last night."

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then she laughed nervously. "Okay, that was a terrible joke."

"Was it?"

"Amelia, what's going on?"

I studied her face, searching for any sign that she knew what I was about to ask.

She looked genuinely confused.

Or she was a better actress than I had ever given her credit for.

I pulled out my phone and opened the photograph.

Her expression changed the instant she saw it.

The color drained from her face.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

I felt something cold settle in my chest.

"You recognize it."

She looked at me quickly. "Where did you get this?"

"That isn't an answer."

"Amelia, listen to me-"

"Why are you standing behind Damien and my brother?"

She glanced around the courtyard. A few students were passing nearby, laughing about something on one of their phones.

"Not here," she whispered.

I folded my arms.

"Then where?"

"Can we please talk somewhere private?"

"Why? Are you afraid someone might hear the truth?"

She flinched.

It was small, almost imperceptible.

But I saw it.

And suddenly, the suspicion I had spent the entire night trying to bury grew teeth.

"Tell me what happened," I demanded.

Serena swallowed.

"I can't."

The words hit harder than I expected.

"You can't?"

"Not here."

"Then tell me later."

She reached for my hand.

I pulled away.

"Amelia, please. You have to trust me."

I laughed, but there was no humor in it.

"That's exactly what I'm trying to figure out."

The first bell rang.

Students began moving toward the building, and Serena glanced at the entrance as though it offered her an escape.

"Please," she said again. "Give me until lunch."

I wanted to refuse.

I wanted to demand answers until she gave me something that made sense.

Instead, I stepped back.

"Fine. Lunch."

Relief flashed across her face, but it disappeared almost immediately.

"And Amelia?"

I turned.

"Whatever you think you know about Damien, don't let him convince you he's innocent."

My heart sank.

Because she hadn't denied being in the photograph.

She hadn't explained why she was there.

She had only warned me about Damien.

And somehow, that made everything worse.

---

By the time I reached Advanced Literature, my mood had deteriorated beyond repair.

Damien was already in his seat, leaning back with a notebook balanced on one knee.

He looked irritatingly relaxed.

I hated that about him.

I hated the way he seemed unaffected by everything around him. I hated his careless posture, his sarcastic remarks, and the fact that he had returned to Westbridge as though the last two years had never happened.

Most of all, I hated that I couldn't stop wondering whether he had been telling the truth.

He looked up as I approached.

"You're late."

I checked the clock.

"Class starts in three minutes."

"Two minutes and forty seconds, actually."

"Do you count seconds for fun, or is being unbearable a full-time occupation?"

His mouth curved into a smile.

"There she is."

I dropped my bag onto the desk.

"Who?"

"The Amelia Hart I remember. I was beginning to worry the summer had made you pleasant."

I sat down and opened my notebook with more force than necessary.

"Don't flatter yourself. You're not important enough to change my personality."

"Interesting. You seem to have spent a lot of time thinking about me."

I turned toward him so quickly that my hair whipped across my face.

"Excuse me?"

"You've been glaring at me since you walked in."

"Maybe your face is just naturally offensive."

He laughed.

Actually laughed.

It was an irritatingly nice sound, which only made me angrier.

"You're welcome to keep telling yourself that," he said.

Before I could respond, Mr. Lawson entered the classroom and placed a stack of papers on his desk.

"Good morning, everyone. Today, we'll discuss the research proposal and determine the teams for our preliminary academic project."

A collective groan rose from the class.

Mr. Lawson ignored it.

"Since this project will contribute significantly to your scholarship evaluations, I expect your full cooperation."

He began reading out names.

I barely listened until I heard mine.

"Amelia Hart."

I raised my hand.

"Damien Blackwood."

My hand dropped.

"No."

Mr. Lawson looked up.

"Is there a problem, Miss Hart?"

"Yes, sir."

A few students turned around.

Mr. Lawson folded his arms. "Would you care to explain?"

I took a deep breath.

"I work better independently."

"An admirable quality. Unfortunately, this assignment is designed to assess collaboration."

"I understand, sir, but-"

"Then I'm sure you'll manage."

A ripple of laughter moved through the classroom.

I sank into my seat.

Beside me, Damien leaned closer.

"Don't worry, Hart. I'll try not to ruin your perfect academic record."

I smiled sweetly.

"Don't worry, Blackwood. I'll try not to carry you through the entire project."

"How thoughtful of you."

"How unfortunate for me."

Mr. Lawson cleared his throat.

"If the two of you have finished entertaining the class, perhaps you could begin discussing your topic."

I looked down at the assignment sheet.

Our topic was the influence of social reputation on truth and justice.

I stared at the words.

Then, very slowly, I turned toward Damien.

He was already looking at the paper.

His expression had changed.

For the first time since he returned, he looked genuinely uncomfortable.

"What?" I whispered.

He shook his head.

"Nothing."

"You're a terrible liar."

"And you're terrible at minding your own business."

I lowered my voice.

"Does this topic bother you because of what happened to my brother?"

His jaw tightened.

"Not everything is about Daniel."

"Really? Because you seem to have a lot to say whenever I mention him."

He closed the notebook on his knee.

"Maybe that's because you keep bringing him up."

"Maybe that's because you refuse to explain what happened."

His eyes met mine.

"Would you listen if I did?"

The question caught me off guard.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

Damien watched me for a moment, then looked away.

"That's what I thought."

Anger rushed through me.

"You don't know anything about what I would do."

"No?" He turned back toward me. "Then prove it."

"Prove what?"

"That you're interested in the truth more than you are in being right."

I stared at him.

He stood, collected his books, and walked to Mr. Lawson's desk to ask a question about the project.

I remained in my seat, furious.

Not because he had challenged me.

But because some small, unwanted part of me wondered whether he had a point.

---

At lunch, I found Serena waiting behind the library.

She was sitting on the low stone wall beneath the oak tree, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

The moment she saw me, she stood.

"Thank you for coming."

"I didn't come because I wanted to."

"I know."

I remained several feet away from her.

"Start talking."

She looked down at her hands.

"Two years ago, Daniel was helping Damien with something."

I felt my pulse quicken.

"What kind of something?"

"An academic project. They were investigating irregularities in the school's examination system."

I stared at her.

"Daniel never told me that."

"Because he didn't want you involved."

"Go on."

Serena took a shaky breath.

"They discovered that someone had been accessing confidential examination materials before the tests. Daniel wanted to report it. Damien wanted to find proof first."

"And you?"

"I knew about the investigation."

The world seemed to tilt slightly.

"Why?"

"Because I was there when they discussed it."

I looked at her, trying to reconcile the girl in front of me with the friend I thought I knew.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

Her eyes filled with tears.

"I was scared."

"Of what?"

She shook her head.

"I can't explain everything yet."

A bitter laugh escaped me.

"Of course you can't."

"Amelia, please. I know how this sounds."

"It sounds like you knew my brother was investigating something serious, watched his life fall apart, and then said absolutely nothing."

"I didn't know it would happen like that!"

"Then what did you know?"

She pressed her lips together.

For several seconds, she seemed to struggle with the answer.

Finally, she whispered, "I saw who took the documents."

My entire body went still.

"Who?"

She opened her mouth.

A sharp voice interrupted us.

"That's enough, Serena."

We both turned.

Damien stood at the edge of the path, his expression darker than I had ever seen it.

Serena stepped back.

"Damien-"

"I said enough."

I moved between them.

"Don't you dare tell her what she can and cannot say."

His gaze shifted to mine.

"You don't understand what's happening."

"Then explain it!"

"I can't."

"Of course you can't!" I threw my hands up. "Is that the only sentence you know?"

He stepped closer, lowering his voice.

"Someone is watching you, Amelia."

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

"What?"

His eyes flicked toward Serena before returning to me.

"Someone knows you're asking questions. Someone who doesn't want you to find the answers."

I forced myself to laugh.

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

"No." His voice softened. "It's supposed to keep you safe."

I hated the way those words made my heart stumble.

I hated that, for the first time, he didn't sound arrogant.

He sounded afraid.

And I hated most of all that I couldn't tell whether he was afraid for me or for himself.

I lifted my chin.

"I don't need you to protect me, Damien."

"I know."

"Then stop acting like you care."

Something flickered across his face.

Pain, perhaps.

It vanished before I could be sure.

"Believe me, Amelia," he said quietly. "I've been trying not to for two years."

My heart seemed to stop.

Before I could ask what he meant, he turned and walked away.

Serena remained beside the wall, staring after him.

I turned toward her.

"What did he mean?"

She wiped at her eyes.

"I think you should go home today."

I stared at her in disbelief.

"Are you serious?"

"Please, Amelia. Just this once, listen to me."

I stepped closer.

"No. You don't get to tell me what to do after keeping secrets from me for two years. You owe me the truth."

She looked at me with an expression I had never seen before.

Not guilt.

Not fear.

Something worse.

Shame.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Then she walked away.

I stood beneath the oak tree, surrounded by the ordinary noise of a school day that suddenly felt unfamiliar.

My best friend had admitted she knew something about my brother's scandal.

Damien had warned me that someone was watching me.

And neither of them was willing to tell me everything.

I should have been furious.

I was furious.

But beneath the anger, something else had begun to grow.

Curiosity.

Because for the first time, I was no longer certain that Damien Blackwood was the enemy.

And that frightened me far more than hating him ever had.

---

That evening, I returned home determined to get answers from the one person who couldn't avoid me.

My brother.

Daniel was sitting at the kitchen table when I walked in, his laptop open and a half-finished cup of coffee beside him.

At twenty-two, he looked older than he should have. The scandal had taken something from him that no amount of time seemed capable of returning.

But when he saw me, he smiled.

"Hey, trouble."

I dropped my bag onto the chair opposite him.

"We need to talk."

His smile faded.

"That sounds serious."

"It is."

I pulled out my phone and placed the photograph on the table.

Daniel looked at it.

For one long moment, he didn't move.

Then he closed his laptop.

"Where did you get this?"

"That's what everyone keeps asking me."

His face tightened.

"Amelia, listen to me carefully. Whatever you think you know about Damien Blackwood, leave it alone."

I stared at him.

"You're the second person to tell me that today."

His eyes snapped to mine.

"Who was the first?"

"Damien."

Daniel stood so quickly that his chair scraped against the floor.

"What did he say to you?"

"Nothing useful. He just keeps insisting that everyone is lying."

My brother ran a hand through his hair.

For the first time in years, he looked genuinely frightened.

"Amelia, promise me you won't investigate this."

I shook my head.

"I can't promise that."

"Please."

"No. You don't get to ask me to ignore something that destroyed your future."

His expression softened.

"My future isn't destroyed."

"Then why do you look like you're still waiting for someone to apologize?"

The question silenced him.

I swallowed.

"Daniel, what really happened two years ago?"

He looked at the photograph again.

Then, in a voice so quiet I almost missed it, he said, "Damien wasn't the one who betrayed me."

My heart pounded.

"Then who was?"

Daniel looked toward the window.

For several seconds, I thought he wouldn't answer.

Finally, he turned back to me.

"Someone who had access to everything. Someone who knew what I was investigating. Someone who knew exactly how to make me look guilty."

"Who?"

He met my eyes.

"I never found out."

I stared at him.

"You're lying."

His face crumpled slightly.

"I'm trying to protect you."

"From what?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he picked up my phone and looked at the photograph one last time.

Then he handed it back.

"If Damien has returned, it means he hasn't given up."

"Given up on what?"

Daniel's voice dropped to a whisper.

"Finding the person who destroyed both our lives."

I stood motionless.

Both their lives.

Not just Daniel's.

Damien's, too.

Before I could ask another question, my phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

A new message.

STOP ASKING QUESTIONS, AMELIA.

A second message appeared immediately.

THE NEXT SECRET WE EXPOSE WILL BE YOURS.

I looked up at my brother.

He had seen the messages.

And judging by the expression on his face, he knew exactly what they meant.

For the first time in my life, Daniel Hart looked at me as though he was afraid of what might happen next.

And somewhere across the city, Damien Blackwood was keeping a secret that could change everything I thought I knew about him.

I had spent two years believing he was my worst enemy.

Now I was beginning to wonder whether hating him had been the easiest lie of all.

Because the truth was coming.

And whoever was behind those messages was willing to do anything to keep it buried.