Everyone—including Andres—leaned in toward Maeve's screen.
On the screen was a photo of a man and a woman striding toward each other, on the verge of falling into each other's arms.
Andres focused, and his pupils widened.
The background was the same—an airport in Africa.
Same man: him.
But the woman he was about to hug wasn't Natalia.
It was Maeve.
Maeve held the screen up for all to see. "This is the original. The one in her bag is obviously photoshopped."
Natalia froze, stunned. "No. That's impossible. The woman in that photo is me—how could it suddenly become you?"
She jabbed a finger at Maeve. "Your picture is the fake one!"
Maeve smiled brightly, like she was enjoying herself. "Whether it's edited or not is pretty obvious."
She swiped through her album, flipping up several more images in quick succession.
Every single one had Andres in it, while the woman he was about to embrace changed from one photo to the next.
Maeve lifted her phone higher. "You all see it now, right? My man and I were traveling, and we took this photo at the airport."
"I posted it on my personal page. Someone screenshot it, used Photoshop, and swapped in their own face."
"Honestly? This is the third time this month."
She hooked her arm through Andres's, possessive and casual. "Can't help it. He's ridiculously handsome. Women daydream about him like it's a hobby."
"And some people track our movements, rush over, and stage a whole little drama."
"The goal is to make me jealous and drive me away. If they squeeze me out, they think they can take my place."

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