My breath hitched.
The glow of his computer screen burned through the dim light behind him with those same words staring back at me.
My fingers went numb. “You have it,” I whispered.
Daniel turned, following my gaze. His expression changed, shock first, then something darker, heavier. Guilt.
“Jane, listen…”
“No,” I cut in, my voice sharp. “You have the same files. The same ones Mia gave me. The ones that show you at the hospital.”
His jaw tightened. He took a careful step toward me. “I can explain that night.”
“Explain?” I laughed, but it came out thin and bitter. “Explain why you were outside my father’s room at three in the morning? Why is there footage of you walking out of the hospital while he was unconscious?”
“Because I wasn’t there to hurt him,” he said quietly.
The words
