When My Boyfriend Let His Best Friend Torture Me

The countdown on my phone said 02:58:41.

I sat on the bench in the staff locker room and watched the numbers drop. The fluorescent light above me buzzed and flickered. It always did. Three years, and nobody ever fixed it.

My feet throbbed inside my cheap sneakers. I pulled one off and looked. Two blisters on my heel, one already torn open. I had cleaned forty-two rooms this week. The guests in the ocean suites liked to leave wine on the carpet.

In less than three hours, I would stop being Lilian the housekeeper. I would be Lilian Salazar again. Sole heiress to Zenith Global Corporation. Hotels, towers, tech. Billions.

That was my grandfather's test. Sullivan Salazar didn't believe in soft heirs. *Three years at the bottom,* he had told me. *No money. No name. If you break, you were never meant to lead.*

I didn't break.

So why did my throat feel tight?

I opened my locker. Behind my folded uniform sat a small wooden box. Dark, old, smooth from many hands. Inside was a piece of New England agarwood. Grandpa had pressed it into my palm before he got sick.

*For the one you choose,* he'd said. *Choose well.*

Drake's birthday was next week. I had planned to give it to him then. I had pictured his face. I pushed the box deeper behind my clothes and shut the door.

Tonight I had to say goodbye to this life. The vending machine coffee. The old women who shared their lunch with me. And maybe him, too. I didn't know how to tell him who I really was.

The door banged open.

"Lil. Why aren't you dressed?"

Drake stood there in his good navy shirt. His cologne hit me before he did. He went straight to the mirror and fixed his collar.

I flipped my phone face down on the bench. "I'm tired. I thought I'd skip the party."

"Skip it?" He laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Nico Harrison is going to be there. Bennett Harrison's son. Do you get what that means?"

"He's just a guest, Drake."

"He's a door." He turned and pointed at me. "His family knows everyone. One good word from him and my dad's company gets a contract. This could change everything."

I pulled my sneaker back on slowly. The blister stung. He didn't look down.

"Okay," I said. "I'll go."

"Good." He checked his teeth in the mirror. "And smile, okay? Don't stand in the corner looking miserable. Don't embarrass me."

He left without waiting for me.

I looked at the closed door for a long moment. Then I put on my only black dress.

---

The party was in the old ballroom by the cliffs. Big windows. The Atlantic crashed black and loud outside. Somebody had lit a fire pit on the terrace, and orange sparks floated up into the dark.

Nico Harrison owned the room without trying.

He lay across a red velvet couch with a champagne glass in one hand. Blond hair, white teeth, a watch that cost more than my three years of pay. A waitress walked by him.

"Six," he said loudly. "Nice legs. Bad face."

His friends laughed. The waitress's ears went red. She kept walking.

Nyra Hunt sat on the arm of his couch.

Of course she did.

She wore pale pink, soft as cotton candy. She leaned in close to him and giggled at everything. When he dropped his napkin, she gasped like it was a tragedy and picked it up for him.

"Oh my gosh, Nico, you're so *funny*," she said. Her voice was high and sweet. Like a little girl's.

Nyra was Drake's best friend. That was what he always called her. *My best friend since forever, Lil. Don't be weird about it.*

I watched Drake walk straight to them. He didn't look for me once. Nico said something I couldn't hear. Drake threw his head back and laughed too loud. Too long. Nico didn't even look at him.

I found a corner near the window. Cold glass touched my back.

I turned my phone over. 02:55:09.

*Just survive the night,* I told myself. *That's all.*

I went to get a glass of water near the terrace doors. That was when I saw them.

Nyra had pulled Drake behind a pillar. Her hand rested on his arm. Her sweet smile was gone. She looked bored and sharp.

I stopped. The music was loud, but I caught pieces.

"...Nico's getting bored," she said. "We need games. Something fun."

"Like what?"

She glanced out at the fire pit. Then at the silver buckets of ice by the bar. "I'll figure it out. Just make sure Lilian plays along. You know how she gets. Don't let her kill the vibe."

Drake didn't even pause.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'll handle her."

*Handle her.*

Nyra patted his cheek. The sweet smile slid back on like a mask. She floated back toward Nico's couch.

I stood there with the water glass in my hand. It was so cold my fingers ached.

Outside, the fire snapped. A gust of wind pushed sparks against the window.

I told myself it was nothing. Just a party game.

My phone buzzed in my palm.

02:51:33.