ence

ose. I walked into my enormous closet, the soft

olo match in the Hampto

. Tucked in the back corner, a splash of black agai

. Aggressively strappy.

te Instagram two weeks ago. It must have been left behind-deliberately or c

invasion. Or a careless mistake. It

down. Hard. No tears. No screaming. Just a cold,

t as if it were contaminated. I placed it in a Ziploc bag, pressed the air out

safe hidden behind

my waist, pulling my back against his chest. "Ready for the polo mat

d a slow breath, commanding my muscles to unclench. I relaxed i

mile fixed on my fac

st r

could hear the distracted, insincere tone in

Courtland was glued to his phone. Smiling that soft, intimate smile

iPhone was in a constant, rapid data exc

reenshot. E

ter of attention. The handsome heir and his beautiful, tragic fiancée. Courtlan

ry made her entrance in a fire-eng

say hello to Bob van der Woodsen," he murmured

g through the crowd not towards the elderly

hed them meet behind a towering pyramid of champagne flutes. He brushed

n fifty

p, specific. For the first

poor deaf thing.

g to hide it anymore

ld. I adjusted the zoom, centering the frame on them. The lens was excelle

ic

Evidence_04. I se

y phone buzzed. A

Fitting - Vera Wang,

ds. A slow, cold sm

ar app. I navigated

"Delete

ed up. Are

te Event" agai

ed a new browser tab. I logged into the encrypted portal for a Swiss legal firm. I pu

e, mocked me, and thought me obli

eath, my phone

e from C

ng. I'll come with you for

d at th

fered to accompany me to

tips cold. My heart slammed against m

he