Chapter 1: The Loyalty Test Trap

My best friend is always roping me into these loyalty tests with her boyfriend.

Honestly, it’s like a twisted game she never gets tired of playing. She’ll borrow my Instagram and slide into his DMs with flirty texts, just to see if he’ll take the bait. She even went so far as to send him sexy lingerie, using my name on the package. Then she sits back and watches, actually looking thrilled as her boyfriend rejects me in the most dramatic, humiliating way possible—proving, in her mind, that he’s some kind of gold-standard boyfriend.

Sometimes I wonder if she even realizes how cruel it is, or if she just enjoys the spectacle. And every time, there’s that glint in her eye, like she’s just waiting for me to trip up. Just so she can say, “See? I knew it.”

This time, I have no idea what new trick she picked up from TikTok. She invited me out to dinner, had her boyfriend serve me, and watched my reaction with that big, fake smile of hers.

Honestly, I wanted to crawl under the table. My face was burning as Ethan set the plate down in front of me, Charlotte watching my every move. I was just about to refuse—force a polite smile and say I’d already eaten—when something weird happened. Suddenly, a stream of chat bubbles popped up in my vision, like live comments on a Twitch stream:

[Here we go again, the spoiled main girl using her so-called friend as a prop. She already has the guy and all the cash—why make things worse for someone else?]

[Bet the friend doesn’t know—the main girl acts this way because she’s always paranoid the guy likes her friend. That’s why she trashed her scholarship and pretended to be her BFF.]

[Girl, you’re a saint for putting up with this every week and still thinking she’s just clueless, not cruel. Honestly, I’d have called her out ages ago.]

[I mean, just eat it for this spoiled queen to see. Step over the boyfriend and level up—let’s see who’s laughing last.]

The comments scrolled past, each one hitting a little too close to home. My stomach twisted. I sat there, frozen. Trying to process what I’d just seen—and what it meant. Was I really that easy to use? Was everyone else seeing it, too?

After reading those comments, it took a while before I could even breathe right again.

I never imagined. All those years ago, it was my best friend who reported me and cost me my scholarship.

All this time, I’d been grateful to Charlotte Langley for helping me finish school when I was desperate. So I treated her as my best friend, paid her back, and still tried my best to show my gratitude.

It’s wild, looking back. I always thought of her as my savior—like she swooped in and rescued me when I had nothing. I worked my ass off to pay her back, always making sure I wasn’t a burden. Even now, after everything, I kept trying to be a good friend, as if I owed her something more than I already gave.

No matter how ridiculous her loyalty tests got, I’d endure Ethan Walsh’s humiliation and contempt and help her send those degrading messages. I’d remind her that she and Ethan were childhood sweethearts. That he was with her because he liked her. But she never believed it—she had to see him coldly reject me before she felt secure.

It was always the same routine. She’d invent some new way to put us both on the spot. Then she’d sit back and watch as Ethan delivered his icy verdict. I’d bite my tongue, play along, and tell myself she just needed reassurance. After all, what were friends for?

Before today, I’d actually been happy for half a day, thinking Charlotte was inviting me out for my birthday, maybe she’d actually surprise me. But turns out, I was just her guinea pig again.

I’d let myself hope, just for a second, that maybe she’d remembered. Maybe this time, it would be different. But the second Ethan started serving me food, I knew. Same old Charlotte. Same tired games.

Charlotte looked downright pleased to see me dazed. Then she leaned against her boyfriend, smiling brightly, and pretended not to care as she said, “Jenna, eat up. Ethan picked this for you—I don’t mind.”

Her voice was all sugar, but her eyes locked on my fork, like the fate of the world depended on whether I took a bite. She said she didn’t mind, but she looked like she’d pass out if I so much as touched the food.

The chat bubbles were furious, rolling by in a frenzy:

[Stop pretending! You’re staring so hard your eyes are about to pop out. If the friend actually eats, let’s see if you can keep smiling.]

[Girl, be brave—don’t let yourself be used anymore, okay?]

[Eat it, eat a lot, eat it right in front of the boyfriend! Girl, drive this spoiled queen crazy!]

I could almost hear the crowd egging me on, like I was on some reality show. Looking at Charlotte’s playful, innocent face, I remembered how she sabotaged my scholarship and played me for a fool. My grip tightened on my fork. Yeah, I felt that anger rising.

Doesn’t she love testing Ethan’s feelings? Doesn’t she love testing whether I have feelings for her boyfriend? If that’s what she wants... Fine, I’ll help her out.

I took a deep breath, letting the tension roll off my shoulders. If she wanted a show, I’d give her one. I snapped out of it, picked up the dish Ethan had chosen for me, and, right in front of her, covered my mouth and pretended to be surprised. “Babe, how did your boyfriend know I love brussels sprouts the most? You must have told him, right? You’re so good to me, Char.”

I even added a little wink just to drive the point home, letting my voice go sugary-sweet. Then I turned to Ethan and gave him a big, bright smile. “In that case, I won’t stand on ceremony. Thanks, Ethan.”

Just as I expected, Charlotte’s smile froze instantly. I’d made up the thing about loving brussels sprouts, but she took it seriously, assuming Ethan had done it on purpose for me. Her lips pressed together. Her face went pale. Her fingers dug into her boyfriend’s shoulder.

I watched her knuckles whiten as she gripped Ethan’s arm. Yeah, she was pissed.

When I finished eating, I asked her, “Char, are you feeling sick? You look so pale. Do you need to see a doctor?”

I kept my voice gentle, but there was no missing the edge. Her expression kept changing, but she couldn’t vent her anger. She had to grit her teeth and swallow it, still pretending to be generous as she gave herself an out. “No, Jenna. If you like it, eat more. My hands weren’t free just now, so I asked him to pick food for you. Ethan is thoughtful. He always considers my tastes—and those of people around me. Don’t overthink it.”

The chat bubbles rolled their eyes, mocking her repeated “don’t overthink it.”