Ivy clicked Facebook first, but she didn’t have an account set up. She’d never felt the need to have any social media accounts. She saw the way it consumed her peers when she was in college, and even in the real world as she worked, and she hated it.
Her friend Alexa used to just sit and scroll through her phone, looking at other people, wishing she had their lives. It was strange to Ivy, to be so consumed with someone else’s life instead of your own.
She recalled one time when a guy almost walked in front of a car on campus because he was so focused on the screen of his phone.
Ivy never understood how humans could be so simple-minded. How did they not realize there were dangers everywhere? One wrong move could kill you. Ivy liked to be in the present moment, not worried about what a fellow classmate ate for dinner, or that someone had just gotten engaged. She knew to really pry on Lola, though, setting up an account was vital. She’d make this an exception.
She quickly created a Facebook account with a fake last name and used a random photo of a white rose she’d found on Google Images as her profile photo. After it was all set up, she searched for Lola again and sent her a friend request. Her page was private, but her profile and cover photos were visible to the public.
Ivy studied Lola’s profile picture.
She was beautiful. Silky, honey-blond hair that paired well with her tawny skin, perfect white teeth, and a thin frame with curves in all the right places. She had gold hoops in her ears and was wearing all white in the photo—crisp and clean, and yet Ivy knew that pretty bitch had blood on her hands.
Ivy clicked through more of Lola’s profile photos, and there were images of her in her kitchen, and her office, and even in her pool. Every image seemed like one out of a magazine. So, this woman was pretty and rich? That pissed Ivy off even more.
To her surprise, Ivy got a notification that her friend request had been accepted. She grinned and refreshed the page to look through Lola’s profile.
Ivy scrolled down until she caught a photo of Lola arm in arm with a man. He was a very handsome man, with perfect teeth too, and a faded, wavy haircut. This woman was married! Happily married too, from the looks of it. How was it that she got to be pretty, happy, and in love, while Ivy suffered for years because of her?
Ivy didn’t trust being in relationships. She was in one before and it didn’t end well, and now she blamed Lola for it. The relationship only ended badly because Ivy’s ex couldn’t accept the fact that she needed to see a therapist every week. He didn’t want to have a “crazy girlfriend,” so she made it easy for him and dumped his ass. He called her names, told her she was no good. Used and abused her.
Ivy gritted her teeth as she pressed down harder on her mouse pad, clicking through Lola’s photos.
How could Lola just live like she’d done nothing wrong in her life? Lola had a big, fancy home with a handsome husband and wore expensive clothes and jewelry. She didn’t deserve any of what she had.
Ivy continued scrolling, but couldn’t help noticing that even though Lola smiled brightly in every photo, there was something about her eyes. Her eyes told Ivy everything she needed to know. She’d gone through something tragic. Lola was definitely responsible for destroying her life.
Ivy saw an Instagram post on Lola’s page. She clicked it, and it took her to the photo. It was a blue-and-white graphic for a charity named Ladies with Passion. It was for volunteer jobs for a charity Lola had founded in 2008. A year after the incident. Yeah, that wasn’t a coincidence at all. Put up a charity to cover up the guilt.
Lola had just posted the graphic two days before. Everyone was welcome to apply for the charity if they wanted to work as a volunteer, but background checks were required and spaces were limited, which meant they would be picky about who became one. There was a link to apply in her biography on Instagram.
Ivy stared at the link for a fleeting moment, tapping the pad of her finger on the edge of her laptop. The last thing