Send number

Julia pulled away from the curb, the school’s wrought-iron gates shrinking in the rearview mirror, her heart still racing from the conversation with Riley. She’d bought time, maybe even a fragile thread of connection, but the headmaster’s command gnawed at her like a splinter. She couldn’t keep stalling forever. With a shaky breath, she pulled into a quiet side street, shifted into park, and opened her messages.

She found the headmaster’s unknown number—the one he’d been using all along—and copied it. Then she opened a new text to Riley.

Julia: Hey sweetheart, here’s that number I was talking about. The cute guy from yesterday. He was really into you Text him if you want. No pressure.

She hit send before she could overthink it, pretending in her own mind that this was just harmless matchmaking, not the betrayal it truly was.

Riley’s reply came almost immediately.

Riley:

Julia stared at the eggplant emoji, a mix of relief and nausea twisting in her gut. At least Riley had responded. At least she’d taken the number. It was something. She switched apps and texted the headmaster.

Julia: I did it. I sent Riley your number. Told her it was a guy who thought she was hot. She just replied with an eggplant emoji.

The response pinged back in seconds.

Master: That’s not the deal, slut. I said convince her to text me. Flirt. Engage. You were supposed to make sure she actually messages me, not just hand off the number like a lazy matchmaker. You fail the task unless she texts me directly.

Julia’s fingers flew over the screen.

Julia: I can’t **** her to do anything. She’s 18. Independent. If I push too hard she’ll get suspicious. I got her the number. That’s as far as I can go without risking everything.

Master: I don’t care. Make it happen. Or the videos go to William tonight. Clock’s ticking, Mrs. Edwards.

Julia’s breath hitched, panic rising fresh and sharp. She opened her mouth to type back—some plea, some bargain—when her phone suddenly rang, the screen lighting up with Angela’s name and a smiling photo from last summer.

She stared at it, frozen, the headmaster’s threat still glowing in the background messages, Riley’s eggplant emoji mocking her from the other thread.

The phone kept ringing.