They Sold My Bestie to Dubai, So I Sold My Family

My best friend, Maya, went to Dubai to work as a nanny.

Out of nowhere, she video-called me, claiming a billionaire oil prince had fallen head over heels for her and they were getting married.

Chloe, I get millions in allowance every single day! Next week, Im sending a private jet to pick you up. Im gifting you an oil well so you can just lie in bed and count cash for the rest of your life!

I was so hyped that I quit my job on the spot, waiting for my ride.

But on the day we were supposed to meet at the airport...

I watched private jets land and take off all day, but none of them were for me.

I even checked the customs entry list for the entire day. Mayas name wasnt on it.

Heart pounding, I dialed her number. But all I got was a cold, computerized voice:

"Were sorry, the number you dialed is no longer in service..."

I stared at my phone screen, not daring to blink.

The time jumped from 2:00 PM to 8:00 PM.

The air conditioning in the JFK Airport VIP lounge was freezing, raising goosebumps all over my arms.

The receptionist walked over for the third time.

The sharp click of her heels against the marble floor made my head throb.

"Ms. Chloe, there is no Maya on todays private flight arrivals. No flights from Dubai have even registered."

She wore a professional, fake smile, but her eyes were dripping with mockery.

"Thats impossible!"

I slammed my phone onto the counter. The screen displayed my chat history with Maya.

In the photo, Maya was wearing a diamond-encrusted gown, leaning against a gold Bugatti with a radiant smile.

"Look closely! This is the location she sent me yesterday. She said she was sending a Gulfstream G700 for me!"

"She said she was taking me to Dubai to swim in cash. She was going to buy me an oil well!"

The receptionist took a disgusted step back.

"Ms. Chloe, you can get those photos photoshopped on Fiverr for five bucks. Or buy a fake package on Amazon."

"Your time in the VIP lounge has expired. Without active flight info, I must ask you to leave."

To wait for Maya, I had thrown my resignation letter right in my boss's face. I hadn't even paid my rent.

All my luggage was stored at the airport lockers. If I didn't leave now, I'd be sleeping under a bridge tonight.

"Maya would never lie to me! We grew up together. I know every single freckle on her body!"

I grabbed my phone and dialed that familiar number again.

Yesterday, she was still bragging about how obsessed the prince was with her.

She said shed buy me a solid gold toilet just so I could experience "treating money like piece of trash."

Her voice had been high-pitched and ecstatic. In the background, I could hear loud Arabic music and the roar of sports cars.

Now, there was only the robotic female voice telling me the number didn't exist.

My brain went completely numb. With trembling fingers, I opened Snapchat.

Our chat history stopped at her last voice note: "Send me a photo of your passport before you get on the plane!"

I sent her a question mark. A bright red exclamation mark flashed on the screen.

*Message failed to send. You are not connected with this user.*

Blocked? Deleted? Or account deactivated?

A wave of dizziness hit me. I almost collapsed onto the floor.

"Maya, you got rich and decided to dump your poor bestie, is that it?"

Refusing to believe it, I clicked on her Instagram.

Her profile, which had been flooded with photos of Dubai supercars, yachts, and that "oil prince" who only showed his eyes, was completely blank.

Just a gray line.

"Ms. Chloe, security is on their way. Please cooperate," the receptionist's voice went cold.

I turned around, dragging my two massive suitcases, and ran.

I couldnt believe Maya would be this cruel.

Last month, she couldn't pay her rent, so I maxed out my credit card to cover her. Her ticket to Dubai was bought with my savings for a house down payment.

She always said I was her only real family. She wouldn't just vanish and delete her number.

Unless... something happened to her!

I took a cab straight to Mayas old apartment. On the way, I called everyone in my contact list.

"Zach, have you heard from Maya?"

"Chloe, you've got the wrong guy. My ex was Vanessa. Ive been single since college!"

The line went dead. I cursed and called Mayas cousin.

"Jessica, is Maya with you?"

"Chloe, honey, are you under too much work stress? Im an only child. I dont have a cousin named Maya."

The cab screeched to a halt at the entrance of a sketchy, rundown alley. My head hit the back of the seat, but I didn't even care about the pain.

I tossed a hundred-dollar bill at the driver and dashed into the dark building.

I ran up to the fifth floor and began pounding furiously on the metal door of apartment 502.

"Maya! Get out here!"

"Don't think you can hide from me! Give me my money back!"

"If you want to cut ties, fine! Just pay me back for the plane ticket, and were even!"

The door didn't budge. Instead, the door of 501 swung open.

An old man, reeking of cheap beer, poked his head out holding a heavy kitchen knife.

"Whos screaming in the middle of the night? You want me to chop you up?!"

I flinched at the sight of the knife. I pointed at 502, my voice shaking. "I'm looking for Maya."

The old man squinted at me like I was a lunatic.

"That apartment has been empty for years! Nobody lives there!"

"Impossible!"

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my photos.

"I helped her move in last month! Look, this is a photo of us right at this doorway!"

My fingers flew across the screen until I found the photo.

My voice died in my throat.

The background of the photo was indeed this rusty metal door. Even the faded Halloween pumpkin decal on the door was identical.

But in the photo, I was standing there completely alone, making a peace sign at the empty air, wearing a stiff, creepy smile.

Maya, who was supposed to be hugging my arm, was completely gone.

Cold sweat instantly drenched my back.

I stared at the photo, my fingers rubbing the screen aggressively as if I could rub her back into existence.

"No... this is impossible!"

"Who photoshopped this? Who touched my phone?"

The old mans anger turned into pity. He shuffled back a bit.

"Kid, your brain is fried. Go home and take your meds."

The door of 501 slammed shut. The hallway fell into a dead, suffocating silence, save for the buzzing of the cheap fluorescent light.

I leaned against the rusty railing, gasping for air, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The deactivated phone could be a coincidence. Her relatives denying her existence could be a conspiracy. But how did the photo explain itself?

My phone had never left my side. Only Maya and I knew the passcode.

Had some hacker breached my phone just to wipe Maya out of my life? What kind of insane vendetta would that require?

Maya was just an ordinary girl. How could she trigger someone that powerful?

Unless... that "oil prince" was the problem!

My brain was a chaotic mess. I knew I couldn't stay here.

I had to go home. My parents would definitely remember Maya!

Maya basically lived at our house growing up because her own parents didnt give a crap about her. She was always over at our place, eating our food.

My mother, Helen, was a snob. She used to look down on Maya for being poor.

But the moment she heard Maya was going to Dubai to marry a billionaire, her attitude flipped instantly.

She even bought expensive glass mason jars just to pack organic jam for Maya to take with her.

I stumbled down the stairs, hailed another cab, and rushed to my parents' house.

The moment I burst through the door, I saw my mom lounging on the couch, eating sunflower seeds while watching TV, and my dad, Richard, tending to his plants on the balcony.

"Mom! Something terrible has happened!"

I rushed over and grabbed her arm.

"Maya is gone! Her phone is disconnected, her Snapchat is gone, and shes literally vanished from our photos!"

My mom flinched, spilling her seeds all over the floor. She patted her hands clean, looking irritated.

"Chloe, did you go crazy just because you quit your job? Act your age."

"Mom, Im serious! Maya said she was marrying a prince and would send us a million dollars each!"

"You even asked her to get you a limited-edition crocodile Birkin bag..."

My mom reached out and felt my forehead, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"No fever. Why are you talking nonsense? Who the hell is Maya? What Dubai prince?"

She turned and yelled toward the balcony, asking my dad if I had lost my mind over money.

My dad pushed up his reading glasses and walked in.

"Chloe, a job is just a job. You dont need to make up stories to cope with losing it."

Looking at their familiar yet suddenly alien faces, a chill crept down my spine.

"Mom, Dad, stop playing! Maya was my high school roommate! We slept in the same bed!"

"Remember Thanksgiving two years ago? She accidentally ruined the gravy by putting chocolate syrup in it! You don't remember that?!"

I grabbed my moms shoulders, shaking her desperately.

My mom shoved me away with surprising force.

She stood up, pointing a finger angrily at my face.

"Chloe, have you been possessed?"

"You've been an awkward loner with zero friends since you were a kid! Where did this 'Maya' come from?"

"And that Thanksgiving incident? You were the one who ruined the gravy and blamed it on a make-believe friend!"

"Stop reading those trashy billionaire romance novels. Theyve rotted your brain!"

I collapsed onto the floor. The cold hardwood sent a shiver through me, instantly clearing my head.

A make-believe friend?

I looked up at the family portrait on the wall.

It was taken last Christmas. Maya had insisted on squeezing in, standing right between me and my mom.

Now, in the photo, there was a bizarre, empty space between us.

My posture in the photo looked incredibly unnatural. My arm was hovering in mid-air, as if wrapping around a ghost.

"This photo is wrong! If I wasn't holding someone, why is my arm raised like that?!"

I pointed at the wall, my finger shaking.

My mom let out a cold laugh. "You said your shoulder was stiff that day and wanted to stretch it out."

"Chloe, I'm taking you to see a therapist tomorrow. Youre having hallucinations."

Everyone was telling me it was a hallucination.

If this were before, I might have actually doubted my own sanity and believed I had conjured up a best friend in my mind.

But then, as my mom turned around to pour some water, I spotted something poking out from under the couch cushion.

An airline ticket stub.

Destination: Dubai. Passenger: Tyler. My deadbeat younger brother.

The date on the ticket: Yesterday!

Why did Tyler fly to Dubai on the exact same day Maya went missing?

My parents were lying. They were trying so hard to deny Maya's existence. What were they hiding?

While my mom was in the kitchen, I reached under the cushion, pulled out the ticket stub, and shoved it into my pocket.

The sharp edge of the paper sliced my palm. The sting kept me brutally sharp.

Maya was real.

Her "disappearance" was a meticulously planned crime. And my parents were accomplices.