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Episode 6: Labyrinths of Deception
Thursday morning broke over Riverside High with the kind of restless energy that refused to die down. Days had passed since the Prom, yet whispers still rippled through the hallways. #RiversideUndercurrents trended on nearly every student's social feed, and snippets of gossip traveled faster than the morning bell.
Layla Wellington walked through the school corridor, pretending not to notice the curious stares. Everyone still talked about her and Ethan Marshall — the Prom's unexpected pair, the couple who stole the spotlight. Her name appeared on blogs, student posts, and even a short video edit that racked up thousands of views. But beyond the glitter of attention, something darker hummed beneath the surface.
At her Advanced Literature seminar, Professor Adewumi was speaking about postmodern narratives — power, perception, and the way truth could twist depending on who told the story. Layla listened, half-absorbed, half-distracted. The topic struck too close to what her life had become lately.
Meanwhile, Ethan was at the Tech Innovation Hub, elbows-deep in presentations and numbers. His startup proposal — a creative-tech collaboration meant to modernize Riverside's student ecosystem — was gaining serious interest. Alumni investors had started circling, eager to support the project. Olivia Reyes, one of the most successful Riverside graduates and now a powerful tech entrepreneur, had taken particular interest.
Her message arrived mid-morning:
> "Confidential meeting — Friday, 3 PM. The Apex Club. Bring Layla Wellington. Discussing Phase Two. Non-disclosure agreements attached."
The Apex Club. The name alone carried weight — a private penthouse venue reserved for Riverside's wealthiest and most connected. Ethan felt both excitement and unease. He texted Layla immediately.
> "Meeting at The Apex Club tomorrow. Olivia's calling in heavy partners — investors, media strategists, venture capitalists. It's big. Dress sharp. We'll handle this together."
Layla's reply came quickly.
> "Got it. We'll face whatever's coming. Together."
She wanted to believe that.
But her phone buzzed again that night — an anonymous message, the third in two days.
> "Not everyone you trust is clean. Some alliances are older than you think."
Layla stared at the text for a long moment, unease coiling in her chest. Whoever was behind these messages knew too much.
By evening, she sat at her desk, research tabs open — digging through Olivia Reyes's public records. Articles praised Olivia's brilliance and philanthropic work, but buried among them were whispers of ruthless takeovers and silent competitors who'd vanished overnight.
When Ethan called later, his voice was calm but tired.
"Don't overthink it, Layla. Olivia's intense, but she's not the enemy. We just have to keep our heads straight."
Layla smiled faintly into the phone. "I trust you," she said softly, though part of her wondered how much she really understood about the world Ethan was stepping into.
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Friday arrived with the sharp brightness of early autumn. The Apex Club towered above the city, glass walls reflecting sunlight in blinding gold. Security guards in dark suits checked IDs and scanned QR passes. Layla felt out of place in her silver-gray dress and neatly braided hair, but Ethan's steady presence beside her grounded her.
Olivia Reyes greeted them with practiced charm. "Ethan, Layla — welcome. I've been looking forward to this." Her voice was warm, but her eyes were calculating.
She led them to a round glass table overlooking the city. Three other figures joined:
Andrei Petrov, a tall, broad-shouldered investor from Europe with a reputation for funding high-risk ventures.
Lara Singh, a media strategist whose name appeared in every major PR breakthrough across the region.
Victor Laurent, a venture capitalist known for turning startups into empires.
Olivia gestured toward them like a queen introducing her court. "Phase Two will expand the Riverside Tech Project into a citywide model. Ethan, you'll handle tech development. Layla, you'll lead the creative and community division. These people will fund and manage exposure."
Layla smiled politely but kept her guard up. "And transparency?" she asked. "How do we make sure we all stay aligned?"
Andrei's deep voice filled the room. "Results maintain alignment, Miss Wellington. As long as goals are met, there are no issues."
Lara crossed one leg over the other, her gaze sharp. "Social perception is key. That's where you come in, Layla. Your image — your story — it sells this project. People already adore the 'Prom Couple' narrative. We'll amplify it."
Layla's stomach tightened. She hated how easily her private life was being turned into strategy.
Victor spoke last. "Funding is ready, provided all partners keep to terms. We'll draft agreements soon."
Ethan leaned forward. "We're committed. We just want things done right."
For a while, everything flowed smoothly — businesslike, professional — until chaos broke through the room.
The elevator doors slid open and Tiffany Larson strode in, a phone in her hand and fury written across her face. "You think you can hide things forever?" she snapped, her voice echoing through the glass walls. "#RiversideUndercurrents has proof. Ethan's not the golden boy everyone thinks he is."
Gasps rippled through the room. Olivia's composure didn't falter, but her fingers tightened around her glass.
"Tiffany," she said coldly, "you're trespassing."
Tiffany ignored her. She turned the phone toward the table, displaying a string of photos — Ethan with Naomi, an ex-student, at what looked like a private event years ago. "Recognize this?" she said. "Funny how old ghosts crawl back when power's on the line."
Layla's breath caught. For a moment, the air felt too thin. Ethan's jaw tightened, but he stayed silent.
Olivia's voice sliced through the tension. "This isn't the place for drama. We'll handle this internally."
Andrei muttered something about "media containment," while Lara already began typing on her tablet, drafting statements.
Victor sighed. "Crisis management 101. Let's handle perception before it spirals."
Layla barely heard them. She turned toward Ethan, searching his face for truth. "Is there something I should know?" she asked quietly.
Ethan met her gaze, steady but tired. "It's old, Layla. Long before you and I even spoke. But I'll explain everything."
Tiffany's laughter was sharp. "Sure, Ethan. Explain it like you explain everything else."
Security entered then, escorting Tiffany out despite her protests. The moment she disappeared down the hall, the room exhaled collectively.
Olivia straightened her blazer. "We'll revisit this meeting once things stabilize. I'll call you both."
Layla and Ethan left the building in silence.
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They ended up at Riverside's quiet waterfront café, a place they'd both come to rely on when life felt too loud. The evening sun shimmered on the river's surface, boats drifting lazily by.
"Are you okay?" Layla asked, breaking the silence at last.
Ethan rubbed a hand across his face. "I'm fine. I just hate that Tiffany's trying to twist everything. Naomi and I worked together on a tech project years ago — nothing more."
Layla nodded slowly. "You don't have to convince me. I just need to understand the full picture."
"I'll tell you everything," he promised, his voice softer now. "No secrets."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The tension between them wasn't anger — it was something heavier, something threaded with fear and longing both. The city lights flickered across the water as Layla finally reached for his hand.
"We'll get through this," she said. "Together."
Ethan looked at her then, eyes full of something unspoken. "Together," he echoed.
The word hung between them — fragile, hopeful, uncertain.
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Later that night, as Layla prepared for bed, her phone buzzed again.
> "The game's just beginning. Watch who you trust."
Her chest tightened. She didn't recognize the number. She deleted the message, but sleep didn't come easily.
Across the city, Ethan sat in his apartment, scrolling through news updates and watching the online storm Tiffany had unleashed. He exhaled slowly, knowing this wasn't over.
And somewhere in the shadows, Tiffany uploaded another post — a blurred image with the caption:
> "Some stories don't end at Prom Night."
The internet caught fire once more.
Layla didn't see it until morning.
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