Chapter 4

At 4:30 PM, I finished my day of studying.

I got back to the dorm exhausted, opened my phone, and saw Russell had posted many Twitter updates.

First photo: A panoramic shot of the ice skating club lobby. Bright lights, ice surface reflecting the glow.

Second photo: Four people posing together on the ice. Russell hugging Marcus, the other two making V signs.

Third photo: A man in black coaching attire instructing Marcus on skating.

Fourth photo: Close-up of equipment—professional ice skates, knee pads, helmet, full top-tier set.

Fifth photo: Lunch—a table for four with four $298 black pepper steak sets.

Sixth photo: Russell alone leaning on the railing for a selfie, hair in a high ponytail, makeup three times more elaborate than usual.

Seventh photo: Marcus and his two friends goofing around with the coach's professional ice skates.

Eighth photo: Four cocktails on the bar counter.

I opened the ninth photo.

I sat up in shock.

Total amount: $9,999.

The itemized list was crystal clear:

Caption: "Living up to tomorrow, living up to you."

The comments section had exploded.

Her high school classmate: "Russell, you're so rich!"

Russell replied: "Just average."

Another person: "Six thousand for a private coach? You're really generous!"

Russell replied: "Nothing wrong with being good to yourself."

Bonnie commented at the bottom: "Wait, you still owe me a hundred from buying books last time. You have money to spend ten thousand but not a hundred to pay me back?"

I couldn't help but laugh.

Last time when buying books, everyone in the dorm agreed to go together.

Russell was munching on bread and insisted on coming along.

When the books were selected and it was time to check out, she said her phone was dead and had Bonnie pay for her.

When Bonnie asked her for the money back,

She said her dad was doing big business and cash flow was tight, and she'd transfer it when she had money.

She even called Bonnie stingy! Bonnie was so mad!

$9,999—she really treated my card like an ATM.

While thinking this, my phone rang.

"Hello, is this the owner of the membership card ending in 3782?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Hello, ma'am. I'm the duty manager at the club."

"This afternoon, four customers came to our establishment and gave us your membership information."

"These four customers arrived at our store at 10:30 AM and insisted they were your friends and had your authorization."

I leaned back on the bed, smiling.

"I have no knowledge of this purchase whatsoever. I have never authorized anyone to use my membership card."

The manager immediately understood.

"Understood. Sorry to bother you!" I happily turned off my phone.

And took a nice bath.

Over two hours later, I was combing my freshly blow-dried hair.

I picked up my phone—57 missed calls, 99 text messages.

Just as I was about to open them, another text came in.

"Dear member, your account has a pending purchase for confirmation, amount $9,999. If you are aware and authorize this, please reply 'Yes'; if this is not authorized by you, please reply 'No'."