I’m right. I can feel it.

“Brandi,” Izzy says, sounding drained as she addresses me by my name for the first time. “I know how this must look, but I don’t think Simon’s will is going to do anything.”

I’m about to pop. “Taylor got his full estate. You were about to marry him and change everything. She did this to get his money. How can you not see that?”

“The police have had it this whole time. If they thought Taylor had something to do with Simon being—”

“She killed him.” My voice surprises me just as much as it does Izzy, but I don’t back down. “And she’s trying to frame me for it.”

I move a few paces away from her, a bolt of energy buzzing through me as the clarity deepens. Then I hit a wall.

It’s not enough. She’s right. This will is not enough to clear my name. It would have been one of the first things the cops confiscated when they launched their investigation, yet they still arrested me without ever even seriously considering that Taylor did this.

“What did the cops say about the will when they got a copy?” I ask, scrutinizing her expression.

Izzy stares at me for a second, then cocks her head. “You know, if you’re so innocent, you should focus on how to exonerate yourself and let the people who actually cared about Simon grieve in peace.”

She rises to her feet and reaches out for the will, but I wave it just out of reach.

“I think you should leave,” she says, making her way to the bathroom door again. “And if you burgle into my personal property this time, I’ll be calling the cops.”

A few beats after she slams the door, she’s vomiting again.

I call an Uber once I get outside the gate and then I text Nate. I don’t care if he’s mad at me; I need to tell him this. I say: Need to talk. Call me. It’s an emergency.

I want to say more, but I don’t want to put any of it in writing.