The Boyfriend I Made Up Ordered A Ride I Never Booked Chapter 03

The Boyfriend I Made Up Ordered A Ride I Never Booked Chapter 03

My blood ran cold. I collapsed back onto the bed, completely frozen.

I’d cried over the fruit market just last night.

And this morning, the problem was already solved?

My phone buzzed. A spoofed text message.

“Don’t cry. I’ve got you now.”

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I called the number frantically.

Only to get the same cold, robotic recording: “The number you have dialed is not in service.” /

I didn’t give up. I called Oak Grove Restaurant Group directly.

The manager said the owner had ordered them not to share any information.

The more I thought about it, the more terrified I became. This person knew everything about my

family. That shouldn’t have been possible.

Unless…

I stripped down and had Mom check every inch of me.

Then I bought an RF bug detector. Searched the whole house, inside and out. Found nothing.

I touched my phone. Had someone planted spyware on it?

That afternoon, I sold my old phone.

Bought a new one. Got a new number.

The old phone didn’t sell for much. Cost me half a month’s living expenses to upgrade. It stung, honestly.

I didn’t dare stay home. I went back to campus that same day.

But for the next three days, nothing showed up. No weird gifts.

I was just starting to breathe again when I had a dream that night.

A man stood in the darkness, his face impossible to make out. His voice was low, almost wounded.

“Baby, you don’t like what I’ve been sending you?”

“Your twentieth birthday’s in a couple days. Let me give you a big gift, okay? Buy yourself whatever

you want.”

I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat.

No one knew this-except my mom. I’d had my birth certificate amended a year forward so I could

start school before turning six. Everyone thought I was twenty-one.

I’d never told a single friend or classmate. My roommates definitely didn’t know.

My head was spinning when my new phone buzzed.

I picked it up. A bank deposit alert. $250,000.

The memo had one line.

“Happy 20th, baby.”

I dropped the phone. It hit the floor with a loud crack.

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