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67 - Oakley.

Eva isn't in bed when I wake, so I search for her. My heart pounds harder when I don't find her in the kitchen or the little library. The light in the glasshouse is on, where I keep my laptop and journal.

"Eva," I say her name as I walk in.

"What is this?" Eva asks, signaling to my laptop open on the photoshopped image of her kissing the janitor.

I must have left my laptop on without locking it. Either that or she guessed my password. The look in her eyes is one of pure anguish, and it makes my chest ache. "You were the one who sent the photograph to my parents." She shakes her head. "Y-you." Her voice breaks, and a stray tear escapes her eyes, trickling down her cheek. She nods at the open diary on the table too. "I know everything."

"Eva, listen." I move toward her, but she takes a step back.

"No," she barks, louder than I've ever heard her speak. "Don't come near me. Natalya warned me someone wanted me here." She clenches her fists by her side. "She said that someone doctored the i
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