The Palm Reader's Last Warning

The fortune teller's trailer smelled of incense and desperation. Elena sat across from the woman, extending her palm. 'You have a betrayal line,' the old woman said, tracing a crease across Elena's hand. 'Someone close. A friend.'

Elena laughed nervously. 'That's specific.'

'Also a fox.' The woman's eyes rolled back, white and unfocused. 'Cunning. Waiting for you to look away.'

Outside, the carnival lights flickered against the darkness. Elena adjusted her wide-brimmed hat, pulling it low. David—her friend of fifteen years, her business partner—waited by the carousel, his silhouette familiar against the spinning neon horses. He'd been acting strange lately. Defensive about the company books. Short with her in meetings.

The fortune teller grabbed Elena's wrist. 'He's already taken it. Your share. Your trust.'

Elena pulled away, paying too much. She walked toward David, each step heavy with what she now knew. The palm reader's words echoed: *a fox.* David, with his easy charm and late-night texts about 'just looking out for us.' The way he'd insisted on handling the merger alone.

He smiled as she approached. 'Everything okay? You look pale.'

'The fortune teller,' Elena said, voice steady despite the ache in her chest. 'She said I'd lose everything to a fox.'

David's face went still. Behind him, the carousel spun on, its mechanical music warped and tinny. 'Superstitious crap,' he said, but he wouldn't meet her eyes.

Elena remembered the papers she'd found last week—the signature she'd recognized as his forgery. The palm reader hadn't told her anything she hadn't already suspected. She'd just needed someone else to say it aloud.

'She said foxes can't help what they are,' Elena said. 'But you can.' She turned toward the exit, leaving him there amid the spinning lights and screaming children, her hat pulled low against the wind, her palm still tingling where the old woman had traced her future.