PATRICK

My head was spinning. Everything about this was wrong. Penelope's story didn't add up. Why would she be so worried if she knew Elisa had just been drunk? And the way she described Elisa's state, it was exactly what I saw, but the "why" was missing. The pieces of the puzzle weren't fitting together, and the only logical explanation was that someone had meddled.

I needed to find out who had ordered my sister's martini. Penelope never told me who she was with that night. She just said she "went out." I walked with Elisa in silence, letting the words she was about to say sink in.

"Ricky," she began, her voice soft and hesitant, "we need to talk, don't we?"

I stopped abruptly, and I could feel her head bump against my back. Her touch, even through our clothes, sent a shiver down my spine. I turned around, and her eyes were wide with a mix of confusion and guilt. The same guilt I had been trying to erase since that night.

"Elisa," I said, my voice low and serious. "I have something to tell you. It's not about that night. It's about Penelope."

Her expression changed from confusion to fear. "What about her?"

"Did she tell you who she was with at The Nightingale lately?"

She shook her head. "No, she just said she was with a friend and they were catching up."

My stomach dropped. I knew it. Something was wrong. The pieces were starting to connect, and I didn't like the picture they were forming.

"I've been going through her social media, and she's been posting pictures of a new person she's been hanging out with," I explained. "His name is Ben. And he's been leaving comments on her posts that are... a bit too intense. It's almost obsessive."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"He's commenting on her location, on the clothes she's wearing, even on the time she posts a picture. It's not normal. It's like he's watching her."

"But what does that have to do with me? And with that night?"

"I think he's the one who put something in her drink," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "He knew she was meeting you that night. He must have known her order, and when she got called away, he probably didn't realize that you would be the one to drink it."

Elisa's face went white. She looked at me, then at the ground, and back at me again. She was processing everything, just like I had been. The pieces were finally coming together, and the horrifying truth was staring us right in the face.

The one that was in our very own reality, in the guise of a friend, was now threatening the lives of the people I love the most.