Old Photos, New Suspicions

George slid his laptop across the table toward me, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "You're going to want to see this."

I leaned forward, staring at the screen. It was a photo from Emma's social media, dated three years ago, and tagged as "#BirthdayMemories." Emma and Victoria were side by side, grinning under a canopy of fairy lights. The caption read: "Best birthday ever with my favorite person! Love you, Vic ❤️."

I frowned, glancing up at George. "Didn't she tell you they weren't close?"

"Exactly," George said, crossing his arms. "But this looks pretty close to me."

I leaned back, tapping my fingers on the table. "If they were such good friends, why would she lie about it? Why make it sound like they were barely acquaintances?"

George smirked. "Maybe because lies are easier to tell when no one checks the receipts."

I ignored his jab and scrolled through the comments. Most were typical—hearts, birthday wishes, and generic compliments. But one stood out: "You two are basically inseparable! Happy Birthday, Emma!"

"'Inseparable,'" I muttered. "She went out of her way to make it sound like they barely spoke."

"And there's more," George said, navigating to another post. This one was dated a few months later, again featuring Emma and Victoria. It was captioned: "Can't imagine my life without this one. ❤️ #BestiesForLife."

I stared at the screen, the weight of the contradiction settling in. "Emma and Victoria weren't just friends—they were close. Best friends, even. So why go through the trouble of pretending they weren't?"

"Exactly what I was thinking," George said, tapping the desk. "If they were that close, why was Emma fighting over a small part? She's rich—she doesn't need it. And it's not like Victoria needed to compete with her either."

"Maybe it's not about the role," I said slowly, my thoughts racing. "Maybe something happened between them."

George raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"I don't know yet," I admitted. "But if she's lying about something this big, it's not small."

Turning my laptop toward me, I typed Victoria's name into the search bar. Her profile wasn't private but didn't reveal much—until I came across a photo of her, Emma, and a third girl I didn't recognize. It was tagged as "#BirthdayBash," dated two years ago, and captioned: "Three of a kind! Wouldn't trade these girls for the world. ❤️."

"Who's this?" I asked, pointing to the unfamiliar face.

George leaned closer. "No clue, but it looks like she was part of their group. Let's check the tags."

It didn't take long to find her name—Samantha Haynes. A quick search brought up her profile, which was mostly inactive. But a recent post caught my eye: a selfie at an airport, with the caption: "Back home after two years! Can't wait to catch up. ✈️ #LondonToHome."

George squinted at the screen. "She's back? That's... convenient."

"Looks like we've got someone new to talk to," I said, already thinking of the next steps.

George leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "This is getting bigger than I thought. First Emma's lie, now this? What do you think Samantha knows?"

"I don't know," I said, sitting back and crossing my arms. "But if she was as close to them as these pictures suggest, she might be the key to figuring out what's really going on."

We sat in silence, the pieces slowly falling into place. Whatever had happened between Emma, Victoria, and Samantha, it was bigger than I'd realized. And Samantha's sudden return felt less like a coincidence and more like the next chapter of a story I wasn't ready to read.