The idea sends a ripple of unease through me. The thought of someone lurking in the background, watching, waiting, filled with enough anger to kill—it makes my skin crawl.

Bennett shakes his head. “It’s possible. But I think it’s more likely that Aubrey is my mother. That the wedding was rushed because she was pregnant.”

Theo looks skeptical. “I don’t know.” He hesitates, choosing his next words carefully. “Have you confronted her about it?”

Bennett drops his gaze, his fingers tightening into a fist against his knee. “I haven’t. Not yet. I don’t know if I can. Not until we figure this thing out. I mean…” He swallows hard. “If she’s guilty, I don’t want a relationship with her. But if she’s innocent…” His voice drops to a raw edge. “I don’t want to miss out on that, either.”

The conversation continues, but my mind fixates on one thought, a relentless whisper at the back of my brain: Someone is trying to destroy Aubrey. And we need to figure out who before it’s too late.

By the time the meeting wraps up, the tension is thick enough to suffocate. No one says it, but it’s written all over their faces—we’re standing on a knife’s edge, and one wrong move could send everything crashing down.

Morgan and Bennett say their goodbyes as Theo gathers his things to leave. I follow him to the door, my heart still racing from everything we’ve uncovered. My stomach twists, my mind replaying Bennett’s words, the endless questions swirling in my head.

“Hey,” he says softly, turning to face me. “You okay?”

I want to say yes, to brush it off like it’s nothing. But the weight of everything we’ve learned presses heavy on my chest. “Yeah,” I whisper, though my voice betrays me with a slight tremor.

He studies me, his gaze searching mine, and then, without a word, he takes a small step closer. His fingers brush against mine, the touch grounding, steadying.

“We’ll figure this out,” he murmurs. “I promise.”

The emotion in his voice makes me believe him, and for the first time all night, I feel a flicker of hope.

As he turns to leave, he pauses, his shoulders stiffening slightly. Then he spins back around, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat.

Before I can respond, his hand is on the back of my neck, pulling me into a kiss that’s hard and fast, like he’s been holding back all night. My breath catches, and just as quickly, the kiss softens, his lips moving against mine in a way that’s deliberate, almost tender.

When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing heavily, and I can see the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Goodnight, Selene,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.