"Lola, do you think I care about you?"
For a brief minute, I was unable to breathe as Desmond's words sliced like a razor through the dense silence of the apartment. As my mind raced to comprehend what I had just heard, my chest constricted. I had been attempting to reconcile the little inconsistencies I had dismissed with the odd sensation that had been bothering me. Now, however, everything became horrifyingly clear.
I staggered backward, scarcely registering the impact when my legs struck the couch's armrest. His once-reassuring, promise-filled eyes had turned cold and calculating as the mask came off. I thought I was looking into a stranger's eyes.
"What are you—Desmond?"
His voice was firm yet low as he interrupted, "I used you, Lola." "You were always just a tool to achieve a goa
