That’s how I’m rationalizing this. If she could just pay this stupid bill for me—

I shake my head. What am I saying? I can’t accept money from her, not like this. She was trying to buy my silence. It was hush money.

I still can’t get over how casual she sounded up in that room. That laughter, high and maniacal. Planning to kill her own father. At a party for charity. Everybody focused on giving and there she was, consumed by thoughts of taking.

A girl I knew in high school killed her father. It was no accident. He was a Jehovah’s Witness, a venerable elder in the church. He’d been molesting her since she was seven. He attacked her in her bedroom, and she snapped that final time, some primal instinct taking over, clobbered him in the head over and over with the base of her phone until he was down, unconscious, not dead. But she just stood there and watched him bleed out, watched him squirm in pain the way he had forced her to so many times.

This is different. This is calculated. Premeditated.

This is fucking first-degree murder. Some white-people, Netflix-limited-series shit.

I don’t know if this girl is really going to kill her father. I don’t want to know. I meant what I said. I don’t want any parts of her shit. I don’t know if I even believe her. I know she’s an heiress and everything, American royalty and shit, but ten thousand dollars just to keep silent? How do you even give someone that much money without raising red flags?

“What’s that?” Nate asks, glancing at the paper in my hand.

I fold it and slip it back into the envelope. “Just a letter from school. It’s nothing.”

I hate lying to him, but I can’t tell Nate about this. He’ll insist on covering it. I know him. We’ve been there before, and it’s not worth another fight.

I don’t want him paying for my tuition. I told myself from the beginning that I’d always hold myself responsible for my own education, no matter what it took. That way, even if something were to happen between us, if we broke up, I’d still be able to graduate. I can’t let my future depend on the success of our relationship. Relationships fail every day. Failure isn’t an option for me, not when it comes to school.

I don’t know what to do.

Taylor’s timing couldn’t have been any more on point. But I know it’s wrong. It’s so wrong. I need a minute to think this over, to clear my head.

I pick up my plate and reach for Nate’s. “You done?”

“Yeah. Wait—hold on.” He leans over for mine, takes the last few picked-over tortilla chips and stuffs them into his mouth. “Okay.”