I reached the villa in eleven minutes and found Megan on the patio, sipping my coffee, her husband Jason beside her with their suitcases already unpacked. She held up her phone with a bright smile. “See? You said, ‘Come anytime, the door is always open.’” The message was timestamped two weeks earlier and carried my name. My blood ran cold. I had never typed those words, and I had never even seen that conversation.

Marcus stood stiffly by the gate, hands twisted in his cap. I held out my hand. “Let me see that.” Megan hesitated, and Jason shifted. Then I noticed the sender’s number at the top of the screen. It was one digit off from mine. My heart pounded as I whispered, “Megan, who gave you this number?” Her smile faded, and Jason looked away.