Dad leaned close and murmured, “Remember the messages Maya sent you last month? The car, the trips, our jobs? Your mom and I thought about it all week. She wasn’t getting to know you, sweetheart. She was pricing you.” My stomach dropped. “So we wanted you to see her real face before you trusted her with a whole year of your life.”

Mom squeezed my hand. “And we aren’t the only ones who got tested today.” Before I could ask what that meant, the dorm door swung open behind us. Maya stood there, pale, her phone shaking in her hand. “Please,” she whispered, “tell me you didn’t see the group chat.” Then my own phone buzzed, and the message on the screen turned my blood to ice.