His Perfect Lie, Her Vicious Truth

die

at him. The initial shock on his face gave w

?" he asked, his voice strained,

"Anner called," I said, my voice surprisingly ste

ed in my hand. The fertility clinic brochure. He probabl

wards me, his hand reaching out. "Just a famil

t buzzed again, a silent tremor in his pocket. He w

ty in his pupils. It was all a performance

ing concern. "Perhaps you should go

hind his eyes. Bridgett' s call versus

his voice still laced with

subtle pressure in my

was gone, a blur of expensive suit and frantic urgency, l

wore shattered. A wave of nausea washed over me,

Bronson' s private study. The one place in this house I

walked towards it, my footsteps un

unlocked. I p

ogany desk, a framed photograph sat prominently. It was Bridgett, her hair wild, her eyes spark

out, my fingers brushing against

den l

small, recessed compartment. Inside, neatly st

from a chilling confirmation. Black and white, sepia-t

pagne. The date stamped on the corner sent a jolt through me, cold

He' d told me he had an urgent business trip, regretting he couldn't be there.

le playing on her lips. Underneath, a handwritten note in Bronson' s familiar sc

n internal hemorrhage from my endless fertility treatments. Bronson had been unreachable for hours, t

r, always putting her first. These weren't mere photos; they were

He hadn't just betrayed me; he had systematically erased me

ping the photos. I needed

o, Dr. Evans? I'm calling about Finley's transfer. I'd like to expedi

f information you can find on Bridgett Bentley, going back ten years. Focus on financial transactions, communications, and any incidents related to an

all chimed midnight. Bronson'

study. I hurried to our bedroom, slipping under the covers, feigning sle

he stripped off his clothes, then the brush of hi

my hand under the covers, slipped, its screen flashing with the last

ice was low, wary. "What ar

checking emails," I mumbled, pulling the phone back

fered, his hand still hovering ov

ible. I shook my head slightly. "No, it's

ion, quickly masked. "You were at the estate today, weren't you?

refully neutral. "Yes. I just... felt a little unwe

nufactured concern. "You were out late. I

hair. "It's complicated. She's... de

te in my voice. "She always has. Perhaps... i

ing in disbelief. He stared a

et, a hidden edge of steel beneath. "She' s family, a

air. "Elodie," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.