The four of us shared a look before we each checked our phones, halting in the middle of the parking lot. I felt like I was in the middle of an episode ofGossip Girl. But instead of A, it was C tormenting me.
The text message was a single link to a news article. I scanned over the headline, and my stomach dropped.
Former football star and local community member’s wife arrested.
The moment had come. Carter’s warning.
I’d never clicked a link so fast in my life. I had to know if this was true. Had Angie been arrested?
“Shit,” I heard Grayson hiss beside me, and even though I felt his eyes lift to me, Kenna’s too, I continued to stare at my phone, my heart beating out of my chest.
My whole world seemed to stop as I skimmed over the article, including a picture of Angie at her glamorous wedding, right next to the mug shot taken last night.
“This can’t be true.” I stared at the screen, reading the headline over and over again.
“I wish it weren’t,” Grayson said somberly. “It’s all over social media.”
Son of a bitch.
I told myself not to look, but I did so anyway, and there it was, all over my feed, people posting and sharing the news about Angelina Patterson, the wife of Steven Patterson, a prominent and respected figure of Elmwood. It went on to say how the arrest came after the pair had only been married less than a year.
I was sick to my stomach. No matter how much anger and resentment I had toward Angie, I didn’t want to ruin her life, not like she had royally messed up mine. I didn’t have it in me. Not to mention, it drew more attention to me and to the Edwards, neither of which I wanted. I glanced up. “I don’t believe it. How did this happen?” Only a few people knew about what Angie had done seventeen years ago. There was no statute of limitations for kidnapping, so it didn’t matter how long ago the crime was committed. With proof, she could be charged and convicted.
Just what proof did the police have that could have led to her arrest? And who gave them that information?
I ran through the list of people. Me. The Edwards. The Elite. Carter. Kenna. Mads. Ainsley. Angie. Maybe Steven. I wasn’t sure if Carter or Angie had told him.
“It wasn’t our parents,” Grayson said, so matter-of-factly that I believed him. One, Liana had told me that she wouldn’t proceed with pressing any kind of charges against Angie without my permission first. Neither Chandler nor Liana struck me as the kind of people who broke their promise. Two, I hadn’t told Grayson about Carter’s message. Only Fynn knew, and I made him promise to let me be the one to tell Brock.
And I had planned to.
I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.
The logical conclusion was Carter was the culprit who turned her in. He not only had the information but the evidence at his disposal. There was also a slim chance, very slim, that Steven or even Angie was responsible. Had the guilt been too much for her? Had she turned herself in?
That was a simple question for me to answer. No fucking way. Angie didn’t have a scrupulous bone in her body. She would not have turned herself in and risked the good name she had tried so hard to build for herself. She had worked too damn hard to get the rich and fabulous life she always dreamed of.
Carter’s message came back to haunt me.
Pay close attention to the headlines.
Asshole!
“I’m not ready for this,” I said to Brock, panic darting around in my gut. I wasn’t ready for all the attention that would come with being the victim in this story or seeing Angie’s case be publicly put on display. Would I have to go to court? The Edwards? So many unknown questions, I suddenly couldn’t breathe.
Brock’s hand came to the small of my back, resting there. “Hey, it will be okay. You’re not alone. You have family by your side.”
Did he mean my Elite family? Or the Edwards. Perhaps both.
I appreciated the gesture and his concern, but some of the damage had been done long before I met the Elite. I might be one of them now, and over the last week that had earned me a semblance of respect at the Academy, or the very least, no one harassed me. But I still got the look and whispers.
Now, with every local news company reporting on the arrest of Angelica Patterson, the wife of well-known former professional football player Steven Patterson, her face would continue to be plastered all over the Internet. And with that came the details and research. I was the heart of the story. My face would be spread just as frequently.
As I walked numbly into the school, my mind whirling, I felt every single person’s eyes in the Academy on me. Student. Faculty. Staff. There were no exceptions.
“Don’t people in this school have anything better to do than stare?” Kenna grumbled, her gaze scanning the faces we passed. She liked the attention, just not the negative kind that was all I seemed to attract.
I didn’t see them. Didn’t care to see those who gawked. The embarrassment already crept over me, and I seriously wondered what I was still doing at school. This was the very last place I wanted to be.