POV: Xavier
Her accusation was a blade, cold and sharp, sliding between his ribs. It wasn’t the question that cut, but the look in her eyes—the shattered trust, the horrifying suspicion that he was capable of fabricating a lie and presenting it to her as salvation.
Did you know this evidence was fabricated?
The words hung in the penthouse air, fragile and deadly. He saw the tremor in her hands she tried to hide. She believed it was a possibility. After everything, she could believe he would manipulate her like that.
“No.” The denial was flat and absolute. It was the truth, but it sounded hollow even to him. He saw the tiny contraction of hope dying in her gaze. She doesn’t believe me.
He walked to his desk, his movements deliberate against the chaos inside. Someone is playing a deeper
