Beatrice.
Gerald didn't believe me.
I could see it in the way his eyes tracked my movements as I walked to my bedroom. In the tightness of his jaw. In the way his hand hovered near his phone.
"Goodnight," I said, my hand on the doorknob.
"Beatrice."
I stopped but didn't turn around.
"Whoever was here—whoever you're protecting—they're using you."
"Like you?" I looked back at him. "You weren't what you seemed either. Gerald. Liam. However many other names you've worn."
His face tightened. "That's different."
"Is it?"
"I lied to protect you. They're lying to use you."
The key card in my pocket felt heavy. Incriminating.
"No one was here."
"Then why do you smell like men's cologne? Why was that window opened? Why are you lying?"
"I'm going to bed."
I closed the door before he co
