Juliette POV
The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, but the warmth it carried was lost on me. I lay in bed, my mind replaying the file I’d discovered on Harrison’s phone the night before.
My name—Juliette. It had been the title of the folder, neatly labeled and hidden among his personal files.
When I’d opened it, I expected something harmless—maybe photos or videos of us, moments he’d preserved over the years. But what I found instead sent a chill through my veins: daily recordings.
I hadn’t pressed play. Harrison had come downstairs too quickly, and I didn’t want him to see the doubt on my face. What if it was a misunderstanding? What if the folder wasn’t what I feared it could be? I didn’t want to accuse him wrongly. Instead, I decided to find out the truth myself.
