Isabel's POV
"You really want me to take this as truth?" My voice had broken, but my eyes didn't veer off Jaxon's. The folder lay open between us on the dining table, its contents spread out like some sort of evidence in a case I hadn't requested an investigation for.
Jaxon's jaw clamped down tightly. He sounded exhausted, as though finally the sleeplessness of the last weeks was beginning to get the better of him. "They're fake, Isabel. Staged. My father-
Your dad?" I cut him off, a healthy dose of incredulity laced into every word. "That's your excuse? You're seriously blaming your dad for this?" I jabbed my finger into one of them-the one of Kara's hands on his chest, lips inches from his cheek.
"It's not an excuse," he replied softly. "It's the truth. You know what he's capable of.
