The picture was still lying on the counter.
My old wedding photo—ripped clean through Cyrus’s body. My face circled in red like a target.
I kept staring at it, waiting for something inside me to break.
But it didn’t.
Instead, I felt cold. Sharp. Focused in a way that scared even me.
Jaxon picked up the torn photo and examined it like it might whisper its secrets out loud. “They didn’t take anything,” he murmured. “They wanted you to find this. That’s the point.”
“Cyrus?”
“I don’t think he’d be this subtle.” He looked at me. “This isn’t his style. He’s more… theatrical. Petty. This? It’s calculated.”
I leaned back against the fridge, arms crossed tight. “So someone broke into our house to leave me a message?”
“Looks like it.”
My throat felt dry. “And now they know where I live. Wh
