The evening air outside the prison carried a strange chill. Stacy clutched her bag as she crossed the dimly lit parking lot, her recorder heavy inside it. Rafael’s words from that afternoon still echoed in her head. Love is the perfect crime. And now you are my accomplice. She had tried to brush them off as theatrics, as a manipulative twist in his storytelling, but they clung to her bones like a sickness.
Her phone buzzed. A private number. She hesitated, then answered.
“Ms. Bendoy,” a low voice said.
She stiffened. “Who is this?”
“You do not know me. Not yet. But you know Rafael. And I know him better than anyone alive.”
Her heart thumped. “Andrew Macavinta,” she said slowly.
A pause. Then a short laugh. “Smart girl. Yes, it is me. And I am calling because you need to hear the truth before it is too late.”
Stacy gripped the phone tighter. “What do you want?”
“To warn you,” Andrew said. “Rafael is playing you. He does this. He draws people in, makes them believe they are different, makes them believe they matter more than the rest. But to him, everything is a game of control. Even love. Especially love.”
Stacy’s pulse quickened. “You think I do not know he manipulates people? I am not naive.”
“Maybe not,” Andrew said, his tone grim. “But you are still walking right into his trap. He made me believe I was his brother. He made Trisha believe she was his forever. Now he makes you believe you are his last great confession. You think you are the first woman he has sworn his heart to? You are not. You are simply the next.”
Her stomach twisted. She wanted to hang up, but his words pinned her in place. “Why are you telling me this? Loyalty to Rafael used to mean everything to you.”
Andrew’s voice hardened. “Loyalty almost killed me. I watched him ruin Trisha. I watched him leave blood in his wake. And I stayed because I believed him when he said we were bound by brotherhood. But he betrayed me the same way he betrays everyone. I am alive because I finally learned to choose myself. I suggest you do the same.”
Before Stacy could respond, the line went dead.
She stood frozen for several moments, the silence pressing against her ears. Then her phone buzzed again. Another number. This one familiar.
“Stacy.” The voice was smooth, feminine, dangerous.
Stacy’s breath caught. “Trisha Vasquez.”
“So he has been whispering to you too,” Trisha said, her tone sharp with rage. “Telling you that you are different. That you are the one. That he loves you.”
Stacy tried to steady her voice. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to understand what kind of man you are dealing with,” Trisha snapped. “Rafael once swore he loved me. He said I was the only one who understood him, the only one who could keep pace with his darkness. I gave him everything. My name, my body, my soul. And what did I get in return? Ruin. Shame. My family despises me. Society spits on me. And Rafael sits in his cell spinning his stories while I live with the ashes of what he burned.”
“I am not you,” Stacy said.
Trisha laughed bitterly. “That is what I once told myself when I saw what he did to others. I thought I was special. That I was untouchable. Do not be foolish. You are standing in the same web. The only difference is that you still believe you can walk away clean. You cannot. He will make sure of it.”
“Why are you warning me then?” Stacy asked.
Trisha’s voice lowered, trembling with anger. “Because I want him to feel what I felt. I want him to taste betrayal. If you walk away, you will save yourself, yes, but you will also let him win. If you stay, if you let him love you the way he claims he does, you will destroy him from the inside. That is the only revenge worth taking.”
Stacy’s chest tightened. She whispered, “You want me to become what you could not be. The weapon that breaks him.”
“Yes,” Trisha hissed. “You have his attention. That makes you powerful. Use it. Do not waste it on fear.”
The call ended before Stacy could reply.
She sank into the driver’s seat of her car, trembling. Two calls. Two warnings. Two different truths. Andrew said run. Trisha said stay and destroy. And Rafael’s voice still lingered from earlier, telling her that love was the perfect crime.
When she reached home, she poured herself a glass of water, though her hands shook so badly the glass nearly slipped. Her father’s voice rang in her memory, lectures about danger and reputation, but for once she wished she could hear him in person. She wished for the comfort of certainty.
Instead, she had chaos.
Hours later, her phone buzzed again. A message this time. No name. Only words.
Do not believe them. They envy what we have. R.
Her stomach knotted. He knew. Somehow Rafael knew about the calls.
She typed a reply with trembling fingers.
What do we have, Rafael? Tell me plainly.
The response came instantly.
We have the truth no one else dares touch. And soon, you will understand that you are mine.
Stacy closed her eyes, clutching the phone against her chest. Andrew’s warning replayed. Trisha’s rage echoed. Rafael’s certainty pierced through both.
She whispered into the empty room. “What am I becoming?”
The next day she went back to the prison. Her steps were slower than usual, her throat dry. When she entered the chamber, Rafael was waiting with that same calm smile.
“You look tired,” he said. “Did the ghosts of my past visit you?”
Stacy froze. “You know about the calls.”
“Of course,” Rafael said smoothly. “Andrew cannot let go of his bitterness, and Trisha cannot let go of her wounds. They cling to me still, like shadows. But you, Stacy, you are light. They will try to drag you down to their level. Do not let them.”
“They said you promised them the same words,” Stacy whispered. “That you told them the same forever you now tell me.”
Rafael’s gaze sharpened. “Do you believe them?”
“I do not know,” Stacy admitted.
He leaned forward, his chains rattling softly. “Then look at me. Do you think I would waste my last days spinning illusions for you? I have nothing left to gain. The only truth I have is you. That is why they hate you. Because you are the one I chose when everything else has ended.”
Her voice trembled. “And what if I do not choose you back?”
His smile widened, almost tender, almost cruel. “You already have. You came back. That is all the answer I need.”
Stacy felt her resolve crack like thin glass. She remembered Andrew’s warning of traps, Trisha’s demand for vengeance, and Rafael’s intoxicating certainty. She was caught in a triangle of truths, each one heavier than the last.
For the first time since she began this project, Stacy realized she might not be the one writing the story. She might be living inside his.
And that thought terrified her more than anything she had ever confessed to herself.
ns216.73.216.46da2
and then Add to home screen.