Plot Twist, I Was Just Her Wallet - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
You are reading Plot Twist, I Was Just Her Wallet, Chapter 5: Chapter 5. Read more chapters of Plot Twist, I Was Just Her Wallet.
Rain was coming down hard as I stepped out of the company.
I swung by the front desk to borrow an umbrella from Lily, but she pulled me aside with this weird, secretive look. Her grip on her phone was white-knuckle tight as she glanced around like we were in some spy movie. "Mr. Lin," she whispered, "do you know Jack's Instagram?"
Of course I knew Jack's Instagram. Or at least, I thought I did—the guy hadn't posted in ages.
Then Lily shoved her phone at me. The screen showed an account called "Jack Knows" with over a million followers. A couples' account.
The latest post hit me like a punch to the gut:
"M is taking me to see the Northern Lights in Iceland!"
Nine glossy photos of glaciers and auroras. Posted yesterday.
My stomach dropped. Just last week, I'd asked Celine to travel with me—she'd claimed she had a business trip. When I called Jack, he'd said he had family stuff.
They'd both lied. They'd gone together.
I forced a tight smile at Lily. "Thanks. Keep this between us, okay?"
Back in my car, I pulled up the account myself. Scrolled all the way back to posts from two years ago, right after graduation:
"Graduation trip with M! I said I love the ocean, so she brought me here."
The photos were all ones I'd taken of Jack.
I remembered that summer. Both Celine and Jack had begged me to travel with them—separately. I'd practically needed a UN peace treaty to get them to agree to a trio trip. Spent weeks planning the perfect itinerary, excited to vacation with my girlfriend and my best friend.
Turns out they'd been screwing behind my back the whole time. For two goddamn years.
Another post:
"M rushed back from out of town when she heard I was sick."
The date lined up with when my mom died.
Back then, the company was just getting off the ground. Celine was always jet-setting for "critical" meetings. When Mom passed from cancer, I called Celine, voice breaking, begging her to come home.
"I can't," she'd said. "Not until this deal closes."
She missed the funeral. Missed the memorial.
But when Jack got appendicitis? She'd apparently raced back the same night.
Guess I wasn't worth the trip.
Tears blurred my vision. I blinked hard, felt them splash onto my phone screen. My chest ached like someone was digging into it with rusty nails.
I kept scrolling.
"One year anniversary! M took me to Disneyland—she's my princess forever."
Posted last June 1st. The exact date I'd planned our romantic getaway. Celine had canceled last minute—some "important client meeting."
Turns out the client was Jack.
Then:
"Fought with M today. She bought me 999 roses and a diamond ring. Guess I'll forgive her."
Their intertwined hands filled the frame. The woman's index finger had a distinctive mole.
Just like Celine's.
I chucked my phone onto the passenger seat. Slammed my forehead against the steering wheel—hard enough to honk the horn. The blare echoed through the empty parking garage.
For a second, the noise shocked me back to reality. Then the pain came rushing back, worse than ever.
I gunned the engine, tires squealing as I peeled out.
Almost home when some idiot swerved into my lane. I jerked the wheel—
CRUNCH.
The world tilted as my car plowed into a tree.
I swung by the front desk to borrow an umbrella from Lily, but she pulled me aside with this weird, secretive look. Her grip on her phone was white-knuckle tight as she glanced around like we were in some spy movie. "Mr. Lin," she whispered, "do you know Jack's Instagram?"
Of course I knew Jack's Instagram. Or at least, I thought I did—the guy hadn't posted in ages.
Then Lily shoved her phone at me. The screen showed an account called "Jack Knows" with over a million followers. A couples' account.
The latest post hit me like a punch to the gut:
"M is taking me to see the Northern Lights in Iceland!"
Nine glossy photos of glaciers and auroras. Posted yesterday.
My stomach dropped. Just last week, I'd asked Celine to travel with me—she'd claimed she had a business trip. When I called Jack, he'd said he had family stuff.
They'd both lied. They'd gone together.
I forced a tight smile at Lily. "Thanks. Keep this between us, okay?"
Back in my car, I pulled up the account myself. Scrolled all the way back to posts from two years ago, right after graduation:
"Graduation trip with M! I said I love the ocean, so she brought me here."
The photos were all ones I'd taken of Jack.
I remembered that summer. Both Celine and Jack had begged me to travel with them—separately. I'd practically needed a UN peace treaty to get them to agree to a trio trip. Spent weeks planning the perfect itinerary, excited to vacation with my girlfriend and my best friend.
Turns out they'd been screwing behind my back the whole time. For two goddamn years.
Another post:
"M rushed back from out of town when she heard I was sick."
The date lined up with when my mom died.
Back then, the company was just getting off the ground. Celine was always jet-setting for "critical" meetings. When Mom passed from cancer, I called Celine, voice breaking, begging her to come home.
"I can't," she'd said. "Not until this deal closes."
She missed the funeral. Missed the memorial.
But when Jack got appendicitis? She'd apparently raced back the same night.
Guess I wasn't worth the trip.
Tears blurred my vision. I blinked hard, felt them splash onto my phone screen. My chest ached like someone was digging into it with rusty nails.
I kept scrolling.
"One year anniversary! M took me to Disneyland—she's my princess forever."
Posted last June 1st. The exact date I'd planned our romantic getaway. Celine had canceled last minute—some "important client meeting."
Turns out the client was Jack.
Then:
"Fought with M today. She bought me 999 roses and a diamond ring. Guess I'll forgive her."
Their intertwined hands filled the frame. The woman's index finger had a distinctive mole.
Just like Celine's.
I chucked my phone onto the passenger seat. Slammed my forehead against the steering wheel—hard enough to honk the horn. The blare echoed through the empty parking garage.
For a second, the noise shocked me back to reality. Then the pain came rushing back, worse than ever.
I gunned the engine, tires squealing as I peeled out.
Almost home when some idiot swerved into my lane. I jerked the wheel—
CRUNCH.
The world tilted as my car plowed into a tree.
End of Plot Twist, I Was Just Her Wallet Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to Plot Twist, I Was Just Her Wallet book page.