Chapter 4: An Offer with Strings Attached

Cecilia did not sleep well that night.

It wasn't because of the unfamiliar bed or the occasional footsteps outside her dorm room. She had expected those things. She had also expected to miss home, struggle with the new schedule, and spend at least a few days feeling like an outsider.

What she hadn't expected was to lie awake thinking about money.

Specifically, someone else's money.

Rita's message remained unanswered on her phone.

Someone with money. Someone who likes helping people he believes have potential.

It sounded harmless enough when Cecilia read it quickly. People donated to scholarships. Wealthy families funded charitable programs. Alumni helped students pay for college.

There were perfectly reasonable explanations for financial assistance.

Yet Rita's final message bothered her.

People like him don't always want the same things they say they want.

If Rita knew something, why wouldn't she simply tell her?

And if she didn't know anything, why was she making the whole thing sound like a warning?

Cecilia rolled onto her side and looked at the clock.

12:18 a.m.

She had class in the morning.

She turned off her phone.

Five minutes later, she turned it back on.

There was no new message.

"Ridiculous," she muttered.

She tossed the phone onto her desk and pulled the blanket over her head.

She wasn't going to meet some mysterious stranger simply because Rita had decided to become cryptic.

She wasn't that desperate.

At least, that was what she told herself.

---

The following morning, Cecilia discovered that Victoria Hayes had a peculiar relationship with alarm clocks.

Victoria owned three.

One sat beside her bed. Another rested on her desk. The third was a small digital device attached to the wall near the door.

All three went off at 6:15 a.m.

None of them woke Victoria.

Cecilia, however, sat upright so quickly that she nearly hit her head against the wall.

"Victoria!"

A muffled sound came from beneath the blankets.

"Turn them off!"

"That's the plan!"

"Then execute it!"

Cecilia stumbled out of bed and silenced the first alarm. She crossed the room and switched off the second. The third required a complicated combination of button presses that she suspected had been designed by someone with a personal grudge against humanity.

By the time she finally silenced it, Victoria was sitting up.

She blinked sleepily.

"Good morning."

Cecilia stared at her.

"I hope you have an excellent day."

Victoria smiled.

"Thank you."

"I hope you enjoy every second of it."

"That's sweet."

"I hope you step on a Lego."

Victoria burst out laughing.

Cecilia returned to her bed.

"You're buying me breakfast."

"Deal."

"And coffee."

"Fine."

"And you're never allowed to own another alarm clock."

Victoria considered that.

"Can I keep the one on my phone?"

Cecilia threw a pillow at her.

Victoria caught it, still laughing.

For the first time since arriving at Westbridge, Cecilia felt that she might actually be able to build a life here.

It would take time.

She would need to make friends, establish routines, and learn to navigate a school where everyone seemed to know everyone else's business.

But Victoria was easier to understand than Rita.

Victoria said what she meant.

Usually.

And she didn't appear to have a mysterious financial arrangement waiting to be explained.

Cecilia decided to appreciate that.

---

At breakfast, Cecilia received a phone call from her mother.

She answered before the second ring.

"Hey, Mom."

"Good morning, sweetheart. Did I wake you?"

"No."

Victoria, seated opposite her, raised an eyebrow.

Cecilia glared at her.

"How are you settling in?" her mother asked.

"Good. My roommate is nice."

Victoria placed a hand over her heart, visibly touched.

"That's wonderful."

"She's also a menace, but I'm learning to cope."

Victoria mouthed an insult at her.

Cecilia smiled.

Her mother laughed.

"Have you made any friends?"

"A few."

"Good."

There was a pause.

Then her mother asked, "How's the food?"

Cecilia looked at the breakfast tray in front of her.

Eggs. Toast. Fruit. A cup of coffee she had acquired after Victoria's unfortunate alarm-clock incident.

"Excellent."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Then make sure you eat properly."

"I will."

"And don't spend all your time studying."

Cecilia nearly laughed.

"Mom, you know me."

"Exactly. That's why I'm telling you."

Cecilia looked out the window.

Students crossed the courtyard beneath a bright morning sky. A group of boys chased one another toward the sports complex, while two girls hurried toward the academic buildings with books pressed against their chests.

Everything seemed so ordinary.

It was strange to think that only a few days earlier, this entire world had existed beyond her reach.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

Her mother went quiet.

Cecilia hadn't intended to ask that question.

It had escaped before she could stop it.

"The right thing about what?"

"Coming here."

Her mother took a breath.

"Cecilia, you worked for this opportunity. You earned it. Don't let a difficult day convince you that you made the wrong decision."

"What if I can't keep up?"

"Then you'll work harder."

"What if I fail?"

"Then you'll learn from it."

Cecilia looked down at her hands.

"What if I disappoint everyone?"

Her mother's voice softened.

"You cannot build your entire life around the fear of disappointing other people."

Cecilia swallowed.

"You deserve to be happy too, sweetheart. Not just useful."

The words struck harder than Cecilia expected.

She thought about the years she had spent trying to make life easier for everyone else.

She thought about how often she had hidden her own worries because her mother already had enough to deal with.

And she thought about the strange offer Rita had made.

Financial help.

A way forward.

A possible shortcut through a future she had spent years trying to reach.

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you too."

After they ended the call, Cecilia sat quietly for a moment.

Victoria watched her over the rim of her coffee cup.

"Everything okay?"

Cecilia nodded.

"Yeah."

Victoria studied her.

"That sounded convincing."

Cecilia gave a small laugh.

"I'm working on it."

Victoria didn't push.

Cecilia appreciated that more than she could explain.

---

James Carter hated family breakfasts.

Not because the food was bad.

His mother employed an excellent cook, and the dining room was always filled with fresh fruit, pastries, and enough options to satisfy the most demanding restaurant critic.

He hated family breakfasts because they rarely involved anything as simple as breakfast.

They were meetings disguised as meals.

That morning, his father was discussing a development project near Boston while his mother reviewed the guest list for an upcoming charity event.

James sat between them, trying to drink his coffee without being recruited into another family obligation.

"Your mother tells me you haven't confirmed your attendance at the university reception," Richard Carter said.

James lowered his cup.

"I told you I'd attend."

"That was three days ago."

"And I haven't changed my mind in the past seventy-two hours."

Richard gave him a hard look.

His mother intervened.

"Richard, let him finish breakfast."

"I'm simply asking for a commitment."

"You have one," James replied.

His father ignored the remark.

"Several important people will be there. The dean of admissions, two members of the university board, and representatives from the Carter Foundation."

James stared at him.

"Are they going to be disappointed if I eat something before discussing my future?"

His mother sighed.

"James."

"What? I'm hungry."

Richard placed his napkin beside his plate.

"You seem to believe that everything is a joke."

"No. I believe breakfast should involve food."

"Your future is not a joke."

James's expression changed.

For a moment, the room fell quiet.

He had heard that sentence in various forms throughout his life.

His future mattered.

His family name mattered.

His responsibilities mattered.

The only thing that never seemed to matter was what he wanted.

"I'm aware of that," he said.

"Then start acting like it."

James pushed his chair back.

His mother looked up.

"Where are you going?"

"School."

"You haven't finished eating."

"I'm not hungry anymore."

He left the dining room before his father could respond.

Outside, the morning air was cool.

James walked toward the garage, took out his phone, and checked his messages.

There were several from Daniel.

One concerned a basketball practice.

Another complained about an upcoming history assignment.

The third contained a photograph of a sandwich Daniel claimed was the worst thing he had ever eaten.

James responded with a laughing emoji.

Then he opened Rita's conversation.

Her last message remained unanswered.

We need to talk about Cecilia.

He had intended to ask her what was going on.

Instead, he had spent most of the previous evening trying to avoid thinking about Cecilia himself.

That had been unsuccessful.

He remembered the way she had examined the lighthouse photograph, her expression thoughtful as she listened to him explain why he had taken it.

He remembered her teasing him about his popularity.

Most people treated him as though his last name entitled him to admiration. Others behaved as if they could gain something by getting close to him.

Cecilia had done neither.

She had simply talked to him.

It shouldn't have been unusual.

Somehow, it was.

James put his phone away.

He was not going to become distracted by a girl he barely knew.

He had enough complications in his life.

He didn't need another one.

---

By lunchtime, Cecilia had made a decision.

She would meet Rita after class.

Not because she intended to accept any offer.

Not because she believed Rita's mysterious benefactor would solve her problems.

She wanted answers.

If Rita had a legitimate opportunity to offer, Cecilia would listen.

If the offer came with conditions she couldn't accept, she would walk away.

And if Rita had decided to use their former friendship to manipulate her, Cecilia would make it clear that she would not tolerate it.

Simple.

At least, she hoped so.

She sent a message.

CECILIA: I can meet after class. Somewhere public.

Rita replied almost immediately.

RITA: There's a coffee shop across from the east gate. Four o'clock?

CECILIA: Fine.

RITA: Thank you.

Cecilia stared at the final message.

She had expected Rita to sound pleased.

Instead, the reply seemed almost relieved.

That worried her.

She put her phone away and returned to her notes.

Whatever happened at four, she would deal with it then.

For now, she had a biology quiz to survive.

---

The coffee shop was called The Harbor Room.

It stood across the street from the academy's eastern gate, tucked between a bookstore and a small clothing boutique.

The interior was warm and inviting, with wooden tables, comfortable chairs, and large windows overlooking the sidewalk.

Cecilia arrived at 3:56 p.m.

Rita was already there.

She sat near the back with a cup of coffee and her phone resting beside her.

When Cecilia approached, she stood.

"Hey."

"Hi."

They exchanged an awkward hug.

Cecilia sat down.

Rita gestured toward the counter.

"Do you want anything?"

"No, thank you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Rita hesitated.

Then she returned to her chair.

For a moment, neither girl spoke.

Cecilia broke the silence.

"Okay. Let's get this over with."

Rita sighed.

"You really don't trust me anymore."

Cecilia looked at her.

"Would you?"

Rita lowered her eyes.

"No."

"Then let's not waste time pretending otherwise."

Rita nodded.

"Fair enough."

She took a breath.

"The person I want you to meet is named Daniel Whitaker."

Cecilia waited.

"He's forty-six, divorced, and works in real estate development. He's also a major donor to several educational programs."

"Okay."

"He has connections with universities, scholarship foundations, and private schools. He helps students who show academic promise but lack the resources to take advantage of certain opportunities."

Cecilia considered that.

"How do you know him?"

Rita looked down at her coffee.

"My mother used to work for a company he invested in. I met him at an event last year."

"And he offered to help you?"

"Not exactly."

Cecilia frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"He helped me get an internship. I learned a lot from him."

"What kind of internship?"

"Administrative work. I helped organize documents, answer emails, and prepare reports."

That sounded reasonable.

Cecilia relaxed slightly.

"Why do you need to introduce me to him?"

"Because he asked whether I knew any students who might benefit from his educational program."

"And you thought of me."

"Yes."

Cecilia studied her face.

"Why?"

Rita looked almost offended.

"Because you're smart, Cecilia. You've always been smart. You work harder than almost anyone I know, and you've spent years trying to get opportunities that other people take for granted."

Cecilia looked away.

The compliment was not unwelcome.

It was simply difficult to accept from someone who had once made her feel as though she was no longer worth the effort.

Rita continued.

"I thought you deserved to know about it."

"What does the program involve?"

"That depends on what you need. He can help with university applications, professional mentorship, and some expenses that aren't covered by your scholarship."

Cecilia's attention sharpened.

"Some expenses?"

"Yes."

"Which ones?"

"Transportation. Educational materials. Application fees. Things like that."

Cecilia thought about the cost of applying to universities, buying textbooks, and traveling to interviews.

Those expenses could add up quickly.

"What does he expect in return?"

Rita hesitated.

"Nothing inappropriate, if that's what you're thinking."

Cecilia's expression hardened.

"I didn't say anything inappropriate."

"I know. I'm just trying to explain."

"Then explain."

Rita pressed her lips together.

"He expects students to take the program seriously. He wants regular academic updates, proof that the money is being used appropriately, and a commitment to maintaining good grades."

Cecilia leaned back.

"That sounds reasonable."

"It is."

"Then why did you make it sound so mysterious?"

Rita looked uncomfortable.

"Because I know how it sounds when I say a wealthy man wants to help you."

Cecilia said nothing.

Rita continued.

"And because I've seen people make assumptions about him. He's older, he's successful, and he knows how to talk to people. Some students think that means he must have an ulterior motive."

"Does he?"

"Not with me."

Cecilia studied her face.

"That's not the same as saying he doesn't."

Rita sighed.

"No. It isn't."

For the first time, Cecilia felt that they were having an honest conversation.

Rita wasn't pretending to know everything.

She wasn't promising that Daniel Whitaker was a perfect person.

She was admitting that she couldn't guarantee his intentions.

That was more useful than another vague warning.

"Have you actually received money from him?" Cecilia asked.

Rita looked down.

"Yes."

Cecilia's stomach tightened.

"For what?"

"School expenses. A laptop. Some transportation costs. He also paid for a certification course I wanted to take."

"Did you sign anything?"

"Yes. An agreement outlining the expenses and what I was expected to do."

"Can I see it?"

Rita looked surprised.

Then she nodded.

"Of course."

She opened her bag, took out a folder, and placed it on the table.

Cecilia read through the documents carefully.

The agreement was straightforward. It listed the educational expenses Daniel had agreed to cover, required receipts for reimbursements, and included regular academic reviews.

There was no mention of personal meetings outside the program's stated activities, romantic involvement, or anything that made Cecilia immediately uncomfortable.

Still, she knew that documents could not reveal everything about a person.

She returned the folder.

"I'd want to read any agreement myself before signing anything."

"Of course."

"And I would want my mother to see it."

Rita nodded.

"That's reasonable."

"And I would want to meet him somewhere public."

"That's how the first meeting would work anyway."

Cecilia considered that.

"Then I'll think about it."

Rita's shoulders relaxed.

"Really?"

"I said I'll think about it. I didn't say yes."

"I know."

Rita smiled.

For a moment, she looked like the girl Cecilia remembered.

The girl who used to sit beside her on the bus, share snacks during lunch, and make ridiculous plans for a future they couldn't yet imagine.

Cecilia found herself wishing that version of their friendship had never disappeared.

Then Rita said, "There's one more thing."

Cecilia closed her eyes.

"Why am I not surprised?"

Rita laughed nervously.

"It's about James."

Cecilia opened her eyes.

"What about him?"

Rita looked toward the window.

"Daniel knows his family."

Cecilia stared at her.

"Okay."

"And James's father has a lot of influence over the school."

"You've mentioned that."

"Daniel sometimes works with his father's company."

Cecilia felt a familiar uneasiness return.

"Why does that matter?"

"Because Daniel knows people who could help you get into a good university. If you become involved in unnecessary drama, it could complicate things."

Cecilia frowned.

"Are you suggesting that talking to James is unnecessary drama?"

"I'm suggesting that you should be careful."

"Rita, he's a classmate."

"He's also Madison Reed's boyfriend."

"And I've already told you I'm not interested in dating him."

Rita looked away.

Cecilia leaned forward.

"Is there something else you're not telling me?"

Rita's silence lasted too long.

Then she shook her head.

"No."

Cecilia watched her.

She did not believe her.

But she had reached the point where asking the same question repeatedly would accomplish nothing.

"Fine," Cecilia said. "I'll consider the program. That's all I'm promising."

Rita nodded.

"Thank you."

Cecilia stood.

"I need to get back to campus."

Rita rose too.

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Do you think we could be friends again?"

Cecilia looked at her.

The question was so simple that it almost hurt.

She wanted to say yes.

She wanted to forget the months of silence and return to the days when Rita had been the person she called whenever something wonderful or terrible happened.

But she couldn't pretend that nothing had changed.

"I don't know," she admitted.

Rita's expression fell.

Cecilia continued before she could respond.

"I want us to be okay. I do. But I need to know that you're not going to disappear again the moment something better comes along."

Rita swallowed.

"I won't."

"You can't promise that."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't know what you'll do when things get difficult."

Rita looked down.

Cecilia softened her voice.

"Just be honest with me. Even when the truth makes you look bad. That's all I want."

Rita nodded slowly.

"Okay."

They walked out of the coffee shop together.

At the corner, they separated.

Cecilia headed toward the academy's eastern gate, while Rita turned in the opposite direction.

For the first time in months, Cecilia felt that they might have made a little progress.

It wasn't forgiveness.

Not yet.

But it was a beginning.

And right now, a beginning was enough.

---

The following afternoon, Cecilia met Daniel Whitaker.

She almost cancelled.

Not because anything in Rita's explanation had sounded particularly alarming, but because the closer the meeting approached, the more aware she became of everything she stood to lose.

She had earned her place at Westbridge through hard work.

She had no intention of jeopardizing it by accepting help she didn't understand.

At 3:30 p.m., she stood outside the school's administrative building, rereading the message Rita had sent her.

RITA: Daniel will meet you at the student center café at four. I'll be there too.

Cecilia checked the time.

3:32.

She had twenty-eight minutes.

She could still leave.

Instead, she walked toward the student center.

The café was quieter than the main cafeteria. It had several small tables, a counter serving coffee and pastries, and a comfortable seating area near the windows.

Rita sat at a table in the corner.

Beside her was a man in a charcoal suit.

He stood when Cecilia approached.

"Cecilia Brooks?"

"Yes."

He extended his hand.

"Daniel Whitaker. It's a pleasure to meet you."

His handshake was firm but not aggressive.

He looked to be in his mid-forties, with neatly combed brown hair and a composed expression. His suit was expensive without being flashy, and his watch looked understated enough that Cecilia suspected it cost more than she could imagine spending on a single item.

"Nice to meet you," Cecilia said.

"Please, have a seat."

She sat opposite him.

Rita remained beside the window.

Daniel folded his hands on the table.

"Rita tells me you're an excellent student."

"I'm doing my best."

"Modesty is admirable. Evidence is more useful."

Cecilia blinked.

He smiled.

"I mean that as a compliment. What subjects do you enjoy?"

"Literature, history, and biology."

"An interesting combination."

"Why?"

"Literature teaches you to understand people. History teaches you to understand how they behave. Biology reminds you that people are also human beings with limitations."

Cecilia considered that.

"I've never thought about it that way."

"Most people don't. That's why education is useful."

He asked about her academic background, her interests, and her plans for university.

Cecilia answered honestly.

She wanted to study psychology or communications, though she hadn't settled on a specific program. She was interested in understanding how people made decisions, how they communicated, and how stories influenced the way they saw themselves.

Daniel listened without interrupting.

When she finished, he nodded.

"You've given this considerable thought."

"I've had a lot of time to think about it."

"Because of your circumstances?"

Cecilia hesitated.

"Partly."

He seemed to understand that she did not want to discuss her family's finances in detail.

"That's fair."

He opened a folder and removed several documents.

"Our program supports students who demonstrate academic promise and a willingness to work toward clearly defined goals. We don't offer unlimited funding, and we don't promise admission to any university. What we can do is help cover eligible educational expenses, provide mentorship, and connect students with people who can offer useful guidance."

Cecilia glanced at the documents.

"How many students are in the program?"

"Currently, twelve."

"And how many have completed it?"

"Nine. The other three are still enrolled."

"Have they all received university scholarships?"

"Some have. Others are still working toward their goals."

He smiled faintly.

"I would rather give you an honest answer than tell you what you want to hear."

Cecilia found herself relaxing.

She liked that answer.

It was not a promise of success.

It was an acknowledgment that success required work, uncertainty, and time.

Daniel continued explaining the program.

There were monthly academic reviews, scheduled mentorship meetings, and reimbursements for approved expenses. Students were expected to maintain satisfactory grades, communicate openly about difficulties, and inform the program coordinator if their circumstances changed.

Nothing sounded unreasonable.

But Cecilia had learned that the important questions were often the ones people forgot to ask.

"Can I take these documents home and review them with my mother?"

"Certainly."

"Would I be allowed to leave the program if I changed my mind?"

Daniel paused.

"That depends on whether you've received funds that are subject to repayment under the agreement. But you are not obligated to participate simply because we've met today."

"Good."

He smiled.

"You're cautious."

"I think it's sensible to be cautious when someone offers you something valuable."

"Indeed."

He leaned back.

"Let me ask you something, Cecilia. If money were not an obstacle, what would you want your life to look like ten years from now?"

The question caught her off guard.

She had prepared herself to discuss grades, university applications, and educational expenses.

She had not prepared herself to imagine her future without financial limitations.

"I'd want my family to be comfortable," she said eventually.

"Comfortable?"

"I'd want my mother to stop worrying about bills. I'd want my brother and sister to have opportunities without feeling guilty about needing things. I'd want to be able to help them if they needed it."

Daniel listened.

"And what about you?"

Cecilia looked down.

"I'd want to do something I care about."

"Such as?"

"I don't know yet. Something that lets me understand people. Maybe psychology. Maybe communications. Maybe writing."

"Those are very different paths."

"I know."

"Then you have some decisions to make."

Cecilia smiled faintly.

"That's why I'm here."

Daniel nodded.

"Fair enough."

He gathered the documents and placed them in a folder.

"Take your time reviewing everything. If you decide the program is right for you, we can discuss the next steps. If not, I hope Westbridge provides the opportunities you're looking for."

Cecilia felt a surprising amount of respect for him.

He had not pressured her.

He had not suggested that she owed him anything.

He had not treated her circumstances as a reason to pity her.

For the first time since Rita had sent that mysterious message, the offer seemed straightforward.

Perhaps she had been too suspicious.

Or perhaps she had simply learned that being careful was better than being sorry.

"Thank you," she said.

Daniel stood.

"You're welcome."

They shook hands again.

As Cecilia gathered the documents, Daniel added, "One more thing."

She looked up.

"Yes?"

"Don't let anyone convince you that accepting legitimate help diminishes your accomplishments. You earned your place here before you ever met me."

Cecilia was silent.

The words touched something she hadn't realized was hurting.

She had spent so long trying to prove that she deserved opportunities that she sometimes forgot the opportunities themselves were not the measure of her worth.

"Thank you," she said again, more quietly.

Daniel smiled.

"Good luck with your studies."

He left the café.

Cecilia watched him go.

Then she turned toward Rita.

"Well?"

Rita looked almost nervous.

"What did you think?"

Cecilia glanced down at the folder.

"I think I need to read the documents carefully."

Rita nodded.

"Of course."

"But he seems reasonable."

Relief crossed Rita's face.

"I'm glad."

Cecilia studied her.

"Why does this matter so much to you?"

Rita looked away.

"Because I want things to work out for you."

Cecilia waited.

Rita looked back at her.

"And because I know what it's like to need help and be too proud to ask for it."

Cecilia's expression softened.

That, at least, sounded like the truth.

---

James found Cecilia outside the student center just after five.

She was sitting on a low stone wall beside the walkway, reading the documents Daniel had given her.

Her backpack rested at her feet.

A loose strand of hair had fallen across her forehead, and she kept pushing it away whenever it interfered with her reading.

James approached quietly.

"What are you reading?"

Cecilia looked up.

"Something boring."

"That narrows it down to approximately eighty percent of the school's curriculum."

She laughed.

"Very funny."

He sat on the wall a short distance away.

"Seriously. What is it?"

Cecilia hesitated.

"An educational assistance program."

James glanced at the folder.

"From the Whitaker Foundation?"

She looked at him.

"You know about it?"

"Yes. My father knows Daniel Whitaker."

Cecilia's expression changed.

"Of course he does."

James frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing."

"That's the second time you've said that when you clearly mean something."

She closed the folder.

"I met him today. Rita introduced us."

James went quiet.

Cecilia noticed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

She gave him a skeptical look.

"That's the second time you've said that when you clearly mean something."

James laughed despite himself.

"Fair enough."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Daniel Whitaker has a good reputation in educational philanthropy. At least, from what I've heard. My father has worked with him on a few projects."

"Does that mean he's trustworthy?"

"Not automatically."

Cecilia nodded.

"That's what I thought."

James glanced at the folder.

"Read everything carefully. Ask questions. Have someone you trust review it. Don't let anybody rush you into signing something because they're offering you an opportunity."

She studied him.

"That's almost exactly what my mother would say."

"Your mother sounds sensible."

"She is."

He smiled.

For a moment, the conversation felt easy again.

Then Cecilia asked, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why did you look uncomfortable when I mentioned Rita?"

James's smile faded slightly.

He could have lied.

It would have been easy.

Instead, he sighed.

"Because Rita and I have known each other for a long time, and I know she's not telling you everything."

Cecilia stared at him.

"About the program?"

"I don't know."

"Then what?"

James looked toward the courtyard.

"I don't know that either."

Cecilia frowned.

"That's incredibly helpful."

"I realize that."

"Then why say anything?"

"Because I'd rather admit that I don't know than pretend I do."

She considered that.

It was an answer she could respect.

James looked back at her.

"Can I ask you something now?"

"Depends."

"Are you always this suspicious?"

"Only when people keep telling me to be careful without explaining what I'm supposed to be careful about."

He nodded.

"That's fair."

Cecilia picked up her backpack.

"I should go."

James stood.

"Okay."

She took a few steps, then turned back.

"James?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for the advice."

He smiled.

"Anytime."

Cecilia started walking again.

This time, James didn't call after her.

He simply watched her disappear around the corner.

He had intended to warn her about the complications surrounding Rita, but he still didn't understand enough to explain them.

And until he did, he had no right to make Cecilia suspicious of everyone she met.

He could only hope she would take her time.

Because if Rita was getting involved in something complicated, Cecilia deserved to know before it was too late.