I move onto the next photograph. It’s more of the same. Remmy standing in Emma’s apartment, the two obviously engaged in a conversation. Of course, there’s no way to know the nature of the conversation. But the fact that it took place in her apartment is troubling.
When I look up again, Kirill is staring back at me with wary eyes. “I hate to say it, brother… but I think she might’ve conned you.”
I shake my head. Even in the face of photographic evidence, I’m willing to give Emma the benefit of the doubt. Pictures can be doctored. And even if they haven’t been, there has to be another explanation.
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“Look at those pictures, bro.”
“I’m f*****g looking, bro,” I snarl. “And I don’t f*****g believe them. I trust her; she wouldn’t—”
“That’s not all.”
I feel like I’m
