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Episode 6: Labyrinths of Deception
Thursday morning dawned over Riverside High with the kind of restless tension that refused to fade. Though Prom Night was days past, its echoes lingered — laughter, rumors, hashtags. Hallways buzzed with whispers as students stole glances at Layla Wellington, the girl who had danced into the spotlight beside Ethan Marshall.
#LaylaEthanPromCouple had gone viral across student feeds. Edits of their waltz filled Instagram reels, captions calling them "Riverside's unexpected power pair." But beneath the flurry of attention, a darker current pulsed through the school — something colder, quieter, and far more deliberate.
Layla walked through the crowded corridors, her posture calm but her thoughts far from it. She was still learning how to balance the chaos — student council meetings, Creative Arts projects, Advanced Literature seminars, and now, the noise of unwanted fame.
That morning in class, Professor Andrews spoke about perception and manipulation in modern storytelling — how a truth could fracture depending on who told it. Layla tried to focus, but her mind drifted. The words hit too close to home.
Across town, Ethan Marshall had buried himself in work at the Riverside Tech Innovation Hub. His proposal — a creative-tech collaboration meant to modernize student systems — had gained real momentum. Alumni investors were circling, and at the center of it all was Olivia Reyes — the glamorous Riverside alumna whose reputation as a visionary entrepreneur made even professors tread carefully.
At exactly 10:17 a.m., Ethan's phone buzzed with a message:
> Olivia Reyes:
"Confidential meeting. Friday, 3 PM. The Apex Club. Bring Layla Wellington. Phase Two discussion. NDAs attached."
Ethan stared at the screen for a long moment. The Apex Club. The name alone carried weight — private, elite, and far above their student level.
He texted Layla immediately.
> Ethan: "Big meeting tomorrow. Olivia wants both of us at The Apex Club. Major investors. This could change everything."
Layla: "Got it. We'll face whatever comes — together."
But that word — together — felt heavier than it used to.
That night, as the rain whispered against her window, Layla's phone buzzed again. An unknown number.
> "Not everyone you trust is clean. Some alliances are older than you think."
Her pulse spiked. The third anonymous message in forty-eight hours. Whoever was behind them knew too much.
Layla opened her laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. Articles about Olivia Reyes filled the screen — interviews, accolades, awards. But buried deep in financial archives were hints of something else. Ruthless takeovers. Quiet disappearances of competitors. Boardroom whispers no one had dared to print in full.
Ethan called just as she was closing the last tab. His tone was calm but laced with exhaustion.
"Don't spiral, Layla. Olivia's not perfect, but she's the opportunity we've been waiting for."
"I know," Layla murmured. "I just... want to make sure we're not walking into something blind."
"You have me," he said quietly. "We'll keep our heads clear."
She smiled faintly. "I trust you."
But a voice deep inside whispered, Do you really?
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Friday arrived bright and sharp, the kind of morning that made the city glitter. The Apex Club towered above the skyline, all glass and gold. Security guards scanned IDs and QR codes before allowing them into the marble lobby.
Layla's reflection shimmered on the elevator doors — sleek silver-gray dress, hair braided neatly, confidence feigned but necessary. Ethan stood beside her, crisp in a tailored navy suit, shoulders squared.
When the doors opened, Olivia Reyes was waiting. Her smile was immaculate; her gaze, razor-edged.
"Ethan, Layla," she greeted smoothly. "Right on time. I trust you're ready to meet the rest of the circle."
She led them into a conference room with a panoramic city view. Three other figures were already seated:
Andrei Petrov, a broad-shouldered European investor with a reputation for funding high-risk, high-reward ventures.
Lara Singh, a poised media strategist known for shaping narratives that moved markets.
Victor Laurent, a venture capitalist famous for turning start-ups into powerhouses.
Olivia gestured elegantly. "These are the people who will take Riverside Tech beyond the campus walls. Ethan, you'll lead development. Layla, your creative leadership and public appeal will drive the campaign."
Layla nodded politely. "And transparency?" she asked. "How do we make sure everyone's aligned?"
Andrei's voice rumbled low. "Alignment comes through results, Miss Wellington. Meet your goals, and there are no problems."
Lara smiled, sharp as glass. "Your story, Layla, sells. You and Ethan — the Prom couple who turned collaboration into innovation. People adore it. We'll use that narrative."
Layla's jaw tightened. "You're turning our lives into PR strategy."
Victor leaned back. "Public interest is power. Learn to use it."
Ethan's voice cut through gently. "We're open to publicity, as long as the work speaks first."
Olivia's expression softened slightly. "And it will. This partnership will change the city — if we keep control."
Everything seemed professional — until the elevator doors slid open again.
Tiffany Larson burst in, phone in hand, fury blazing in her eyes.
"You think you can hide the truth forever?" she spat, storming toward the table. "#RiversideUndercurrents just got an upgrade."
Gasps rippled through the room.
She turned the phone toward them, displaying a series of photos — Ethan with Naomi, an ex-student, at what looked like a private event years ago.
"Recognize this, golden boy?" Tiffany hissed. "Tell your perfect partner how long you've been playing the game."
Layla's heart stuttered. The room spun — Olivia's cold silence, Lara's flickering screen, Victor's restrained sigh.
Olivia spoke first, voice icy. "Tiffany, you're trespassing. Security will remove you."
"Go ahead," Tiffany sneered. "But the internet moves faster than security. You'll all be trending in ten minutes."
Two guards appeared and pulled her toward the door. Her laughter echoed off the glass as she shouted, "You can't bury what's already viral!"
When she was gone, the room dissolved into controlled panic. Olivia snapped orders. Lara began typing crisis statements. Victor muttered about containment strategies.
Layla sat frozen, her pulse pounding.
"Ethan," she whispered, "is there something I should know?"
He met her gaze, eyes steady but weary. "It's old. Years before I met you. Naomi and I worked on a prototype project, nothing more."
Tiffany's words echoed anyway. Funny how old ghosts crawl back when power's on the line.
Olivia's voice sliced through the air. "Meeting adjourned. I'll handle the fallout. Expect my call."
Layla and Ethan left without another word.
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They ended up at Riverside's quiet waterfront café, a place that had always been their safe spot. Evening light spilled across the water, golden and calm — a cruel contrast to the chaos in their heads.
"Are you okay?" Layla asked softly.
Ethan exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "I hate how she twists everything. Naomi and I were colleagues. That's it."
Layla traced her finger along the edge of her cup. "You don't have to prove it. I just need honesty. All of it."
"You'll have it," he promised. "No secrets."
Silence stretched between them, comfortable and uncertain all at once. The city lights shimmered across the water, and finally, Layla reached for his hand.
"We'll get through this," she said.
Ethan's lips curved faintly. "Together."
The word lingered — fragile, hopeful, trembling under the weight of what neither could see coming.
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That night, Layla lay in bed staring at her phone when it buzzed again.
> "The game's only beginning. Watch who you trust."
Her chest tightened. She deleted the message — but sleep never came.
Across the city, Ethan sat alone, scrolling through the wildfire Tiffany had sparked online. His reflection stared back from the screen, shadowed, uncertain.
And somewhere in the dark, Tiffany uploaded a new post — a blurred image, a caption dripping with venom:
> "Some stories don't end at Prom Night."
Within minutes, #RiversideUndercurrents exploded again.
Layla wouldn't see it until morning.
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