From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer novel Chapter 3

**Storm Behind Sleeps by George Orwell**

**Chapter 3**

Just a few days ago, our college group chat was bombarded with wedding photos that made my heart sink.

The bride was exactly who I had anticipated: Quinn Foster.

She was my roommate throughout undergrad, a steadfast friend who had seen me through the chaos of those years.

Quinn hailed from a small, nondescript town, one where dreams were often stifled by the weight of financial struggles. Her features were unassuming, framed by thick glasses that seemed to magnify her earnestness. She was always buried in her books, her dedication palpable.

Quinn worked tirelessly, her pride evident in every small victory. She was fiercely protective of her roots, unwilling to let anyone belittle her past.

I still remember that moment in class when our English professor, with a smirk, ridiculed her accent, dismissively saying she “talked like a farmhand.” The flush of humiliation crept across her cheeks, but she stood her ground, refusing to let his words define her.

It was I who took the first step, reaching out to her.

I invited her to join the speaking group that Zachary and I had started.

Perhaps it was our shared backgrounds, both of us driven by the same relentless ambition that drew us together.

The connection between Quinn and Zachary was instantaneous.

Or maybe it was simply that they complemented each other perfectly.

The cafeteria food, which I found utterly revolting? They devoured it with enthusiasm.

While I adorned myself in vibrant colors, they opted for black—functional, no-fuss attire that suited their personalities.

Whenever we split into groups for assignments, they would inexplicably gravitate toward the same choices, as if a silent agreement had been made without my knowledge.

Yet, all interactions between them flowed through me. They maintained a respectful distance, never crossing boundaries.

Thus, I remained blissfully unaware.

After graduation, Quinn faced an uphill battle trying to secure employment.

She reached out to me, desperate for guidance. I managed to pull some strings and got her a position at my father’s company. I even asked Zachary to keep an eye on her, to ensure she was settling in well.

Gone were the days of our three-person study sessions; this time, I was no longer the buffer.

That’s when everything changed.

Why Quinn?

Perhaps it was because with her, he could finally drop the mask he had worn for so long.

I was completely oblivious.

Until my wedding day, when Quinn, overwhelmed with emotion, threw herself into Zachary’s arms, sobbing:

“You did it. Ten years undercover. You can finally stop hiding.”

Ten years.

That was the length of time it took for me to uncover the true Zachary Hart.

He stood there, an impassive figure, watching me from across the room as if I were a suspect being interrogated.

A thousand questions swirled in my mind.

What happens to Dad now? When did you two start this?

And… when did the deception begin?

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