I feel horrible. For not trusting him. For thinking he was capable of doing something like this. Setting me up. Framing me. I wish I could take it all back. There are so many things I want to say to him, so many pieces that still don’t seem to fit. Questions I need answers to. Like the photos. Taylor hacked into my email account, but how the hell did she get those photos? Did she hack into my phone too? His phone? Why didn’t he just delete them when I asked him to? He said he would. And I still don’t understand why he changed his mind so suddenly the other day when he kicked me out. What came over him? How could he actually believe that I cheated on him with Simon? And that security footage. What happened to it? Was there even footage from that day, and if there was, how could there not be a clip of me coming into the building on it? And what about the ten minutes Bierman said was missing from the Van Doren home security system?

I have to slow down. I take a breath and rub my hand over my forehead. This conversation has turned around too quickly. My head is drowning.

“Come here,” Nate whispers, his hand warm against my cheek.

I take a long breath, then dump myself in his arms. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—I didn’t mean anything I said. I was just so confused—I’m sorry—”

I’m trembling and crying and nothing I’m saying is coherent.

Nate’s hands grip my back as I bury myself in his armpit. “It’s okay. I get it. Hey. I’m sorry too. It’ll be okay. We just have to figure out how to convince that detective.”

I sniff loud and pull myself back. He’s right. We have the advantage. We have the truth on our side.

“I found Simon’s will,” I say, heading into the bedroom. I reach over onto the bed, under my pillow, and hand it to him. “Taylor got everything if he died. This is why she did it. It has to be.”

His eyes drop. “Holy shit. How’d you get this?”

I ignore his question. “This is motive. But we need more. They already have me. This isn’t enough for them to want to start over and actually investigate. All they want are convictions, and I’m the perfect target. Plus, they’ve seen the will already, but they aren’t looking at her, so unless I have proof of an alibi...they won’t get off my back.” I take a breath, running my hands over my hair, and then I remember. “Wait.”

Nate steps closer. “What?”

“The Zelle payment. I can prove that she paid me. The ten grand is proof that she was planning to kill him and needed to shut me up.”