Chapter 4 - THE GIRL WHO NEVER DISAPPEAREDI slept exactly forty-three minutes that night.
At 2:07 a.m., I was sitting cross-legged on my living-room floor with Ryan’s photograph in my hand while Natalie searched every variation of Lily Grant’s name she could think of.
Nothing recent appeared.
Lily’s disappearance had been covered briefly by local media.
Twenty-eight years old.
Financial analyst.
Last seen leaving her apartment on March 12.
Her car was found three days later at a train station.
No confirmed sightings afterward.
Yet Ryan’s photograph showed Lily standing beside Madison.
The background looked like a farmer’s market.
A handwritten sign advertised peaches for $3.99 a pound.
Natalie enlarged it.
“There’s a date printed on the banner.”
We zoomed further.
SEPTEMBER HARVEST WEEKEND.
Two weeks earlier.
“So Lily’s alive,” Natalie said.
“Or the picture’s fake.”
“You think Ryan photoshopped it?”
“I think Ryan lies professionally.”
At 7:30 the next morning, I called Madison.
She didn’t answer.
I tried again.
Straight to voicemail.
At nine, Natalie drove me to Madison’s photography studio.
Locked.
The neighboring bakery owner said she hadn’t arrived.
“She’s usually here by eight.”
I showed him Lily’s photograph.
“Do you recognize this woman?”
He did.
“She’s been here a few times.”
“When?”
He shrugged.
“Recently.”
My stomach sank.
Madison had lied.
But why?
An hour later, she finally called.
“Where are you?”
“Outside your studio.”
Silence.
“You shouldn’t have gone there.”
“Ryan showed me the photograph.”
Another silence.
“Meet me alone.”
“No.”
“Emma, please.”
“Anything you tell me, Natalie hears.”
Madison sighed.
“Fine. Old railway park. Thirty minutes.”
We found her sitting at a picnic table near an abandoned station.
The moment I approached, I placed Ryan’s photograph on the table.
“You told me Lily disappeared.”
“She did.”
“She’s standing next to you.”
“I never said she was dead.”
“You let me believe something happened to her.”
“Something did.”
Madison rubbed her forehead.
“She disappeared by choice.”
“Because of Ryan?”
“Because of his father.”
That was new.
Madison looked around before continuing.
“Lily discovered that Bennett Capital was moving client money through shell companies. She reported it internally.”
“And became Revenge Seventy-Three.”
“Ryan was told she had fabricated evidence to extort his father. So he went after her.”
“What did he do?”
“They staged an arrest.”
I stared at her.
“Fake police?”
“Actors. Fake charges. Fake news article. They convinced her she was facing twenty years in federal prison.”
Natalie whispered a curse.
“For twelve hours,” Madison continued, “Lily believed her life was over. They filmed everything.”
“What happened afterward?”
“She recognized one of the actors.”
“And realized it was fake.”
“She also realized something else.”
Madison looked at me.
“The documents she found were real.”
“So she went to police.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she didn’t know who she could trust. Bennett Capital has powerful clients.”
“So she disappeared.”
“She staged it herself and started working with an attorney.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Lily’s location is secret.”
I pointed at the photograph.
“Apparently not secret from Ryan.”
“That’s what scares me.”
Madison looked genuinely shaken.
“I never gave him that.”
“Who took it?”
“I don’t know.”
My phone vibrated.
A notification from 96REVENGES.
The video of me had passed 2.4 million views.
But the comments had changed.
The internet had begun turning against Ryan.
Former victims were speaking up.
A hashtag was trending.
#WhoAreThe96.
Ryan had posted a statement claiming the channel was satire and all participants eventually consented.
Madison laughed bitterly.
“I never consented.”
Neither had I.
At noon, I received a call from a woman named Rebecca Sloan.
She introduced herself as an attorney representing three former prank victims.
“I understand you may have evidence related to Ryan Bennett’s account.”
“I have screenshots.”
“Do you have original files?”
“No.”
“Did you physically see a device containing archives?”
“Yes.”
“Then we need to move quickly.”
She explained that several former victims were considering a civil lawsuit, but previous cases had collapsed because videos disappeared whenever legal demands arrived.
“If the system still exists, we need preservation orders.”
“What do you need from me?”
“Your account of what happened. Names. Location. Anything you remember.”
For the next two hours, I told her everything.
The fake accident.
The donation.
The VIP room.
The laptop.
The whiteboard.
At the end, Rebecca asked one question.
“Did Ryan personally tell you why he targeted you?”
“Yes. His sister.”
“What happened with his sister?”
I explained Haven House and the stolen $18,000.
Rebecca went quiet.
“What?”
“Emma, do you still have copies of the nonprofit’s financial records?”
“Some.”
“Do any involve Bennett Capital?”
“I don’t know.”
“Check.”
That evening, Natalie and I opened my old Haven House files.
At first, nothing seemed unusual.
Then I found a donor spreadsheet.
Bennett Capital had contributed $250,000 two years earlier.
The money was restricted for emergency housing.
But only $84,000 reached the program.
“What happened to the rest?” Natalie asked.
I checked account transfers.
Three payments went to a consulting company.
BCR Strategies.
I searched the business registry.
Owner: Chloe Bennett.
Ryan’s sister.
My pulse accelerated.
Chloe hadn’t stolen $18,000.
She had stolen much more.
The board investigation had only uncovered the final withdrawals.
I called the nonprofit’s former director.
She refused to discuss it.
Then she whispered, “Stop looking.”
“Why?”
“Because the money was returned.”
“By Ryan’s father?”
A pause.
“You don’t understand who you’re dealing with.”
The line disconnected.
At 8:42 p.m., someone rang my apartment buzzer.
This time it wasn’t Ryan.
A woman stood downstairs wearing a baseball cap and oversized sunglasses.
She looked directly into the security camera.
Then removed the glasses.
I recognized her from the missing-person photographs.
Lily Grant.
I buzzed her in.
Three minutes later, she stood inside my apartment.
Her first words were not hello.
“You have to stop digging into Haven House.”
“Why?”
“Because Ryan’s prank account isn’t the real secret.”
She placed a flash drive on my table.
“The pranks are how the Bennett family finds out who can be intimidated.”
I stared at the drive.
Lily continued.
“And you weren’t chosen as Number Ninety-Six because you embarrassed Chloe.”
My mouth went dry.
May you like
“Then why?”
“Because you found the one set of books they failed to destroy.”
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