The Lie That Traps (Lies and Truths Book 1)

10. Gulliver

GULLIVER

It’s been two days since I met Izabella. Two days since my fucked-up confrontation with Penelope and her mother. I thought about telling my dad, letting him know that his perfect little wannabe daughter-in-law is actually a lying bitch, but every time I’ve started to say anything, I couldn’t.

Something about the fear in Izabella’s eyes and the way her entire body was shaking when we got to her house has kept me silent. I’d planned to talk to her at school to check if she’s okay, but even though I’ve been looking for her, I haven’t seen her at all.

I’ve seen Penelope plenty. Everything is a fucking production with her. I doubt she takes a shit without taking a picture and posting it on her socials. Penelope is like a bad smell that you just can’t get rid of. She’s snuck into every fucking corner of this school, stinking the place up, waving at me in the hallways, circling me and my friends at lunch, and refusing to leave me alone no matter how many cruel ways I tell her I’m not fucking interested.

“How many of your classes is Penelope Rhodes in?” I ask my friends at lunchtime on Wednesday.

Laughing, Davis lazily cups the girl on his lap’s breast while she shamelessly grinds against his dick. “What the hell is going on with you lately? I thought you hated her? Have you changed your mind and decided to do what your dad wants and marry her after all?” he teases, his voice filled with amusement.

Reaching over, I slap him on the back of the head, causing him to jerk forward, toppling the girl perched on his knee to fall forward and land on her butt at his feet.

“Hey,” Davis cries, lifting the girl up.

“This isn’t a fucking club. Why don’t you keep the dry humping for when I’m not trying to talk to you? Now answer the fucking question,” I snap, glancing around the table at the rest of my friends.

“I don’t fucking know,” Davis says, pushing the girl into an empty seat. “Chemistry and French.”

“Yeah, me too. Anyone else have any other classes with her?” I ask.

“I have English and trig with her,” Candace says.

“Nah, I have English with her and Latin,” Kip argues before he takes a huge bite from the sandwich on his plate.

Unlike most high schools, Green Acres Academy doesn’t have the usual cafeteria slop. We have a team of chefs that prepare our meals to order. Nothing but the best for the crème de la crème of the upper classes.

“I have biology with her,” Thorn says offhandedly, his attention on his cell phone.

“You can’t. We don’t have biology together, and she’s in my class,” Molly says.

“You’re sure it’s Penelope Rhodes in your classes?” I ask, putting emphasis on her name, and hoping that one of them will mention Izabella.

“Who the fuck else would it be? The heiress makes sure everyone knows who she is.” Kip laughs.

It takes me a moment to process what my friends are saying. They’re right, everyone knows who Penelope is, because she likes it that way. I doubt there’s a soul in this school who isn’t aware of the fortune she’s expected to inherit or the terms of the inheritance. So how is it possible that both twins really do go to school here, and no one seems to know?

My friends continue to bicker about who has classes with Penelope and who doesn’t, but I let their voices become background noise. Am I really the only one who knows about Izabella? And if I am, how is it possible that both girls have been here the entire time and no one has noticed that they’re twins?

My mind is buzzing with questions as the lunchroom door opens and Penelope glides into the room. As usual, she’s accompanied by her group of minions—a mixture of girls who cling to Penelope like just associating with a future billionaire will elevate their status, and the guys who are so desperate to fuck her, they’re prepared to follow her virgin ass around just in case she decides she wants to ride their dicks more than she wants the billions that are dependent on her virginity.

Before I realize what I’m doing, I scan the room for Izabella, but I already know she’s not here. The entire senior class has lunch together, and I know I’ve never seen them both in here at the same time, so where does Izabella eat?

I spend the rest of the period going through the motions. I eat my lunch and chat about the weekend sailing plans with Davis, Kip, and Thorn, but I’m only half paying attention. More often than I’m willing to admit, I find myself staring at Penelope and trying to figure out if that’s who I’m looking at. Could it actually be Izabella? From a distance, in their school uniform, I doubt I could tell them apart.

The thought that I might have spoken to Izabella more than once and assumed she was her sister is unsettling. How many others at this school have unknowingly spoken to both sisters and never been corrected? Why would they keep Izabella a secret?

I don’t know why I care so much. The Rhodes family are leeches, and I have no interest in allowing them to suck me dry. But no matter how much I try to forget the look in Izabella’s desperate eyes, I can’t. When the final bell rings, I gather my things, but don’t rush to get to my car. Instead, I position myself on the school steps and settle in to watch.

Pick up at GAA is a mixture of kids driving supercars and drivers collecting their teenage wards in blacked-out town cars. When I spot the same driver who drove Izabella and me back to her house yesterday, I step forward, watching as he parks at the bottom of the school steps, climbs out, and opens the rear door.

Just like I expected, Penelope is sashaying through the crowd of kids, like she’s walking a runway at fashion week, determined to make a grand exit.

Taking another step forward, I try to see if Izabella’s in the back of the car, but the seat is empty. Once Penelope has climbed in, the driver closes the door, gets back into the car and pulls away, blending onto the street and disappearing from view.

Narrowing my eyes, I search for another car, wondering if Penelope is enough of a diva to insist she can’t share a ride with her sister, but one by one, the rest of the students leave. Twenty minutes later, the lot is almost empty and there’s no sign of Izabella.

For a second, I wonder if maybe she didn’t come to school today. Then a familiar town car slows to a stop at the curb, and the Rhodeses’ driver steps out. Blinking, I glance around me, wondering if Izabella has been waiting this whole time and I just haven’t noticed, but I’m the only person here.

Suddenly, a flash of blonde appears to my right, and Izabella Rhodes scurries out from the side of the building, heading quickly toward the car and driver.

I know I should leave her alone. I know that nothing good can come from me getting any more involved with the Rhodes family, but my feet move before I can convince myself to stay put. Something about the other Rhodes twin calls to me. Maybe it’s the novelty or the intrigue that’s surrounding her, or maybe it’s that even though she looks just like Penelope, she’s nothing like her that has me falling into step beside her. “Hello, Izabella.”

She doesn’t lift her head as she speaks, her hair shielding her face. “Hello, Gulliver.”

“How is it possible that no one knows you exist?” I ask bluntly, not bothering with any expected social niceties.

Her feet stop moving, and she lifts her head to look up at me. For the first time, I realize what’s different about her. Her eyes are a weird violet color, bright and mesmerizing and utterly unique. “Your eyes,” I whisper.

Heat colors her cheeks, and she looks away. Something tightens in my chest, and reaching out, I hook my thumb under her chin and force her head to lift. “Why don’t I know you?” I ask.

“Because I’m not going to inherit billions of dollars,” she says succinctly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

An incredulous sound falls from my lips, and throwing my head back, I laugh. Blunt as it was, what she said is ridiculous but so painfully honest and true. When the last chuckle falls away, I stare at the girl in front of me. Dressed in the same uniform her sister wears, her hair styled the way Penelope’s always is, her makeup heavy but flawless—it really is uncanny how identical they are. But in spite of their similarities, one glance at Izabella’s eyes and I wonder how I ever mistook her for her sister.

“I should go,” she whispers, twisting her head to smile sweetly at her driver, who glares at me, his body leaning forward, ready to protect her.

Dropping my hand, I clear my throat. “Goodbye, Izabella.”

“Goodbye, Gulliver.”

Thoughts of Izabella plague me for the rest of the night, and when my dad gets home, I can’t help but bring it up. “How long have you known the Rhodeses?” I ask.

Dad pauses for a minute, his expression pensive. “I’ve known Barnaby since school, but we lost touch after GAA. He was still an acquaintance, of course. We ran in the same social circles, but I wouldn’t exactly call us friends. I suppose we became reacquainted when you and Penelope started at Green Acres together.”

“So that’s why I’d never met Penelope before high school?”

“She didn’t go to Haversham?” he asks, obviously not aware.

“No, she was homeschooled.”

He nods, like this makes sense. “Yes, I think I remember Trudy mentioning that they used to travel a lot with Barnaby’s business, although I’m not sure why; everyone knows that Barnaby’s role is more of a title than anything else.”

“So, no more kids, just Penelope?” I ask, even though at this point I’m pretty much convinced that Izabella is not public knowledge. I wonder if it’s always been that way, if they’ve always hidden her, or if it’s just been since the inheritance was revealed.

“Well, I’ve never met any, have you?” He laughs. “Does all this interest in Penelope mean you’ve changed your mind about the engagement? I know you’re not convinced of the idea, but she’s a sweet girl, and I married for business; it’s what’s expected in our world.”

Sighing, I push my plate back and eye my dad. “Yeah, and look how well that turned out for you. Mom is a nightmare, and you were miserable for fifteen years,” I say dryly.

“Well, yes, but we had you, so that worked out pretty well.” He smirks.

I can’t help but smile back. I love my dad even though he’s trying to force me to marry a girl I can’t stand, whose family is actually turning out to be a hundred times worse than I thought. “Look, Dad, I know the idea of having access to the Rhodes billions is making your dick hard, but I can’t stand her. I can barely tolerate being in a room with her for more than an hour at a time. If you force me to marry her, I will be more miserable than you ever were with Mom, and there’ll be no grandchildren because I’ll never touch her. Fuck, even the thought of having to share a bed with her is repulsive. Is that what you want for me?”

His eyes go sad, and his lips dip down into a frown. “No, that’s not what I want for you, but you have to?—”

“No, I don’t,” I interrupt him. “We have money, Dad, plenty of money. Tying myself to Penelope and changing my life to abide by the rules of that will is not something I’m prepared to do, and as my dad, the only parent I have a relationship with, I’d think you’d understand that.”

Dad rubs at the back of his neck and exhales loudly. “Okay. I didn’t realize you felt this strongly about it. I’ll stop pushing for an engagement, but I don’t think the Rhodeses will, and we can’t afford to alienate them. When Penelope gets this money, they’ll be too powerful to have as an enemy, so tread carefully.”

I nod. “I will. Thank you, Dad.”

“It’s a good thing I love you, kid, because you just cost us billions,” he says with a horrified shrug.

A burst of laughter falls from my lips. “Love you too.”

Sliding on my blazer, I text my driver and let him know I’ll be driving myself to school. I’m tired. My dreams were plagued with flashes of weird purple eyes, and I woke up with a resolve to figure out exactly what kind of game Penelope Rhodes is playing.

My dad might have agreed to give up on the idea of me marrying Penelope, but he’s right, her parents won’t let this go so easily. I need to find some leverage to get them to back off, and the best place to start is with Izabella. No matter what bullshit excuses they make about Penelope’s twin being antisocial, I don’t believe it. She’s not just a loner, she’s invisible.

Grabbing the keys to my Range Rover, I head down into the garage and slide behind the wheel. My dad and I have several garages full of beautiful cars, but Lamborghinis and Porsches aren’t exactly covert, and I don’t want Penelope to know I’m watching.

Parking my car at the front of the lot, I kill the engine and lean back in my seat. From here, I have the perfect view of the town cars and occasional chauffer-driven limos as they deliver the children of the rich and richer to the school steps. I recognize the license plate on the Rhodeses’ car, and once her driver opens the door, Penelope emerges with a flourish from inside the blacked-out interior.

I’m not sure if Izabella is even in the car, but I’m not surprised when their driver closes the door and pulls away. More cars arrive, drop off kids, and leave, but Izabella isn’t in any of them, and as the clock ticks closer to the bell ringing, I consider that maybe she isn’t coming. Just as I’m grabbing my backpack from the back seat, a very familiar car appears at the entrance steps for the second time.

The driver circles the car, and this time Izabella appears, so similar but so different from her sister when I really compare the two. A scoff falls from my lips as I watch her mount the steps in a faux Penelope strut, but Izabella just isn’t her sister, no matter how much she looks like her.

An idea blossoms in my head, and it’s so deliciously brilliant that a smile spreads across my face as I think about it. I hate Penelope. Her entire personality is constructed around the adoration she receives because of money that’s not even hers yet. She flaunts her so-called superiority and acts like every single person is beneath her or a tool for her to use. Her parents are leeches, and Penelope is little more than a puppet, whoring herself out on her dead great-grandfather’s demands.

I don’t know what’s going on with Izabella, but I don’t believe the bullshit they tried to feed me about her just being antisocial. It doesn’t explain her arriving late and not being collected until everyone else has left. It doesn’t explain the fact that no one seems to know she exists or why sometimes she acts like Penelope, like the school owes her their attention, and then other times she behaves like a ghost here, hiding herself from view. It feels like there’s something more going on, but I have no idea what it could be.

Dad told me not to make an enemy of the Rhodes family, but he never told me not to play with them a little. I need to teach Penelope that I don’t give a fuck how much money she comes with. I’ll never make any kind of alliance between our families.

Nodding determinedly, I quickly forge a plan, trying to convince myself that this is just a fuck you to the Rhodeses. It has nothing to do with Izabella, even though something about her is taunting me.

It bothers me that she’s hiding. It’s bothering me that no one knows she’s here, that no one sees her, and it bothers me that now that I know what she looks like, I just don’t seem to be able to look away.