Part 3Splitting the Billionaire's Bill

On Saturday, the day of the art gala, I walked into the grand hall with the counterfeit bag slung over my shoulder.

Just as I expected, Veronica and Ashley were already there, lurking in a corner. Their eyes, like those of twin vipers, were locked on me, tracking my every move. When they saw the bag on my shoulder, they exchanged a look of pure, malicious glee, already imagining my financial ruin.

But I was prepared.

Before leaving the dorm, I had gone to an ATM and withdrawn every cent from my bank account, leaving only a single, crisp $100 bill in my pocket. My debit card, Venmo, PayPal—all of it was at a zero balance. I had even proactively blocked my own access to any cash advance apps.

Veronica's first test of the system was going to be a spectacular failure.

She didn't wait long. I saw her tapping away on her phone, a sly grin on her face. A few minutes later, an expensive-looking afternoon tea delivery from a five-star hotel arrived at the VIP lounge. It was a test, a probe to see if the spending-split had begun.

But for her, there was no satisfying "ding" of a successful transaction.

My bank account balance was zero.

Veronica's smile faltered. A frown creased her brow, and her face grew dark. I saw her shoot a questioning text to Ashley.

Ashley understood immediately. She "happened" to wander past my station.

"Josie, you look exhausted!" she said, her voice loud and performative. "You should go buy yourself a bottle of water or something. Take a break before you burn out!"

She was trying to bait me into making a purchase, any purchase, no matter how small.

My heart jumped into my throat, but my plan was already in motion.

I put a hand to my throat and shook my head, looking flustered.

"I'm okay, really," I mumbled, my voice low and timid. "Besides, I left my phone in my locker. Didn't want it to be a distraction."

Ashley was momentarily stumped, an annoyed look flashing across her face.

Veronica, however, was done with subtlety. She stormed over to me, her patience clearly gone.

"I saw you with your phone when you left the dorm!" she seethed. She opened her Venmo app and, right in front of me, sent me $500. Her voice was sharp, an undisguised command.

"There. Go buy drinks for all the volunteers," she ordered. "Now. I'll cover it."

The $500 was an ultimatum. She was trying to force my hand.

My pulse hammered in my ears.

With a look of reluctant defeat, I pulled my phone from my pocket.

The screen was black.

"Oh, no, Ronnie, I'm so sorry," I said, my voice trembling with manufactured distress. "It must have died. I can't accept the money."

I turned to another volunteer nearby, my expression pleading. "Hey, could I possibly borrow a hundred dollars in cash? I'll pay you back as soon as I can charge my phone. It's to buy water for everyone."

I used the borrowed cash to make the purchase, successfully avoiding any transaction linked to my own accounts.

Veronica never got the notification.

Her face was a mask of thunderous fury. She stared at me, her eyes filled with suspicion. She knew something was wrong.

A wave of triumphant satisfaction washed over me.

Carrying the tray of water bottles, I walked into the VIP lounge. Seraphina Monroe was there, engaged in conversation, radiating an aura of effortless power.

And there, resting on the plush velvet sofa next to her, was my target. The real bag.

This was it.

I placed the water on a nearby table and pretended to straighten some pamphlets, my gaze locked on that bag. I had one shot at this. My entire future depended on it.

Through the lounge doors, I could see Veronica peering in, her expression growing more furious by the second when she saw I hadn't used the bag to go shopping.