Hailey's POV
I spun around so fast the room seemed to tilt.
The photograph shook in my hand, the edges biting into my palm as if it were trying to remind me it was real. That I hadn't imagined it, that the handwriting on the back—the promise, the guilt—had been his.
"What the hell is wrong with you," I said, my voice sharp enough to cut. "Did you have a preferred brand of binoculars, or did you just enjoy playing God with my life?"
The words came out brittle, wrapped in sarcasm so tight it almost passed for control, almost.
Kingsley didn't flinch.
He didn't even apologize.
He didn't even look ashamed.
Instead, he stepped closer.
One step, then another.
The distance between us vanished, and my back hit the wall of photographs with a soft thud. My own face sta
