Amber's hands shook as she locked her apartment door. She'd barely slept after finding Simpson's note with her journal. How did he get in? What did he want?
She jumped when her phone rang. Claire's name flashed on the screen.
"Hey," Amber answered cautiously.
"Mom's driving me crazy," Claire sighed. "Want to meet for coffee? Just us?"
Relief flooded through Amber. Maybe their friendship wasn't ruined after all. "I'd love that."
"Great! Café Bleu in thirty minutes?"
As Amber walked downtown, her mind raced with questions. Should she tell Claire about Simpson's blackmail? About her day with Rawls? About the journal?
Café Bleu was crowded with morning customers. Amber spotted Claire at a corner table and waved.
"You look terrible," Claire said bluntly as Amber sat down.
"Thanks," Amber smiled weakly. "Rough night."
"Because of what I texted about Simpson?" Claire lowered her voice.
Amber nodded. "He—"
"Ladies! What a happy coincidence!"
Simpson's smooth voice made Amber freeze. He stood beside their table, grinning, dressed in an expensive suit that matched his confident smile.
"Simpson," Claire said coolly. "Shouldn't you be at Dad's office?"
"Just heading there now." His eyes locked on Amber. "Mind if I join you for a minute?"
Without waiting for an answer, he pulled up a chair. His cologne was too strong, making Amber wrinkle her nose.
"So, Amber," he said casually, "did you get my gift last night?"
Claire frowned. "You gave Amber a gift?"
"Just a little something I found." Simpson's smile turned predatory. "Something very personal."
Amber's cheeks burned. "It wasn't yours to take."
"Take what?" Claire asked, looking between them.
Simpson leaned back. "Let's just say I'm learning all sorts of interesting things about our sweet librarian."
"Stop it," Amber whispered.
"What's going on?" Claire demanded.
Simpson ignored her. "Have you told Claire what's in that little book of yours? All those detailed entries about—"
"That's enough!" Amber stood up, hands trembling.
"What book?" Claire asked, confusion on her face.
The café door opened, and Rawls walked in. His easy smile vanished when he saw Simpson at their table.
"Simpson?" Rawls approached them, frowning. "I thought we agreed to meet at the office."
"Just catching up with the girls." Simpson winked at Amber. "Learning their secrets."
Rawls's jaw tightened. "We have clients waiting."
"Can't keep the clients waiting," Simpson stood lazily. "Always so responsible, brother. Always doing the right thing." He turned to Amber. "Remember our meeting later? Lots to discuss."
After Simpson left, tension hung over the table. Claire stared at her coffee while Rawls looked at Amber with concern.
"What was that about?" Rawls asked quietly.
Amber couldn't meet his eyes. "Nothing."
"Didn't sound like nothing," Claire murmured.
Rawls checked his watch. "I should go. Be careful around Simpson. Both of you."
As he walked away, Claire studied Amber closely. "What book was Simpson talking about?"
Amber's stomach twisted. "My journal."
"Your journal?" Claire's eyes widened. "The one where you write about—"
"Yes," Amber cut her off. "Simpson found it. He broke into my apartment."
Claire gasped. "We should call the police!"
"And tell them what? That your uncle read my diary where I wrote about having a crush on your dad?"
As soon as the words left her mouth, Amber wanted to take them back. Claire's face paled.
"So it's true," Claire whispered. "I hoped Doug was lying."
"Claire—"
Claire held up her hand. "Don't. Just... don't. How long?"
Amber sighed. "Since I was sixteen."
"Six years?" Claire stood up. "Six years you've been lying to me?"
"I never lied! I just didn't tell you."
"Same thing!" Claire grabbed her purse. "And now Uncle Simpson knows? And my mom might know too? Everyone but me?"
"Claire, please—"
"No." Claire's eyes filled with tears. "I need time to think."
Once again, Amber watched her best friend walk away.
Back at her apartment, Amber found a note slipped under her door:
Meet me at Riverside Park, 3 PM. Come alone or your journal goes public. —S
The park was nearly empty when Amber arrived. She found Simpson sitting on a bench by the river, his suit jacket folded beside him, sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned arms.
"Punctual. I like that." He patted the bench.
Amber sat at the far end. "What do you want?"
"Let's not rush." Simpson's smile never reached his eyes. "Let's talk about you and my brother."
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Your journal suggests otherwise." Simpson stretched his arm along the back of the bench. "Quite detailed fantasies for such an innocent-looking girl."
Amber's face burned. "Give it back."
"Of course." Simpson pulled her journal from his jacket. "But first, I need information."
"About what?"
"Rawls." Simpson's playful tone disappeared. "He's hiding something about the Benedict family trust. Money is missing."
Amber frowned. "I wouldn't know anything about that."
"But you could find out." Simpson leaned closer. "Rawls trusts you. He looks at you... differently."
"I'm not spying on him for you."
"Think of it as helping him." Simpson's voice turned silky. "If money is disappearing, he could be in trouble. You want to protect him, don't you?"
The thought made Amber's chest tighten. "What kind of trouble?"
"The serious kind." Simpson tapped her journal. "All you need to do is look through his private files when you're alone with him. Take photos of anything about the Benedict trust."
"That's illegal!"
"So is breaking and entering." Simpson smiled coldly. "Like someone entering your apartment and taking your journal."
Amber felt sick. "That was you."
"Not personally." Simpson shrugged. "I have friends."
"Why should I help you?"
Simpson opened her journal to a dog-eared page. "Because if you don't, Claire, Karla, and everyone else will read about how you want Rawls to press you against his bookshelf and—"
"Stop!" Amber grabbed for the journal, but Simpson held it away.
"Do we have a deal?"
"Fine," Amber whispered. "But give me my journal first."
Simpson handed it over. "One week. Find the trust documents."
As Simpson walked away, Amber clutched her journal to her chest, feeling trapped.
A movement caught her eye. Doug Dawson stood half-hidden behind a tree, watching her. When their eyes met, he didn't look away. Instead, he took out his phone, snapped a photo of her with Simpson, and smiled before disappearing.
On her walk home, Amber's phone buzzed with a text from Rawls:
Need to talk to you. Something important. Can you come to my house tonight? Claire and Karla will be out until late.
Before she could respond, another text came through from an unknown number:
Playing with fire, Amber? I saw you with Simpson. What would Rawls think about that? Or should I ask him tonight? —Doug
Amber stopped walking. How could she see Rawls now? Simpson wanted her to spy on him. Doug was threatening to tell Rawls she was conspiring with his brother.
Her phone buzzed again. This time from Claire:
Mom found a picture of you in Dad's desk drawer. She's furious. Watch your back.
Amber stood frozen, feeling like everything was crashing down around her. Then one more text arrived, from Simpson:
Remember our deal. And by the way, I made copies of all the best pages from your journal. Just in case you get cold feet.