The lock felt heavier than it should have.
It was ridiculous, really. A small piece of metal. A simple turn of the wrist. People opened doors every day without feeling like they were volunteering to be split open on the other side.
But my hand hovered over the deadbolt as if the door was not wood and steel, but the thin line between the woman I had been and the woman every secret in the room was trying to make me become.
Behind me, Jaxon’s medical file lay open on the coffee table.
His name stared up from the first page.
The ten-million-dollar envelope sat beside it like an insult in expensive paper.
My stomach turned.
Not now, I thought.
He could not see that. Not yet. Not before I understood it. Not before I knew whether Evelyn Kane had handed me a truth, a weapon or another lie
