Part 2Unexpected Hundred Million

First of all, Sarah was the most modest, risk-averse person I knew.

If she wasn't, she would never have moved back to our boring hometown after college to take a secure, mundane government job.

Someone that conservative would never, ever wear a revealing string bikini to a public beach.

We had grown up together and went swimming all the time.

Whenever she got in the water, she wore a high-necked, one-piece swimsuit. I had never seen her wear anything remotely this daring!

Secondly, Sarah struggled with intense insecurities.

Even though she was naturally pretty, she had crippling appearance anxiety.

Whenever she left the house to see people, she either put on a full face of carefully blended makeup or hid behind a surgical mask. She would never let herself be seen bare-faced.

Yet in this video, not only was she completely makeup-free in public, but she was smiling with a level of radiant confidence I had never seen from her before.

It was impossible!

But the final, most crucial red flag was the color. I had known Sarah practically my whole life, and if there was one thing I knew for an absolute fact, it was that she despised the color yellow.

When we were in middle school, her beloved grandmother passed away.

On the day her grandmother died, she was wearing a yellow dress.

Ever since that traumatic day, the mere sight of the color yellow triggered a panic attack for Sarah. It reminded her of the worst loss of her life.

All of her friends knew to actively avoid wearing yellow around her. She would absolutely never buy or wear a bright yellow bikini!

This video was a massive, screaming distress signal.

The moment the realization hit me, I frantically typed a message back to her.

"Holy crap, look at you, rich girl! Are you messing with me? A hundred million?!"

"Did you rob a bank or something?"

Silence.

Ten agonizing minutes ticked by. Still no reply.

I hit the audio call button on our chat app. Nobody answered.

I called her three more times in a row, the ringing echoing in my quiet bedroom, but the calls just timed out. A cold, heavy dread began to pool in my chest.

I opened my contacts and dialed her actual cell phone number.

Instead of a ringing tone, a robotic female voice immediately filled my ear.

"We are sorry, the number you have reached is turned off or disconnected..."

Sarah was missing.