Page 169 of Sinful Lies

She’d rip through you before you even realized you were bleeding.

Her eyes glinted with curiosity, like she could already taste the Pulitzer—or the severance package big enough to buy a private island—if she broke this story.

Exposing Angelo Lazzio—the king of New York’s high society and CEO of the biggest entertainment empire in the West—as a murderer?

That would make her untouchable.

And she knew it. That’s why she was testing me.

I’d come here to betray Angelo.

To carve out a piece of his soul and hand it to this woman on a tarnished silver platter.

And the worst part? I wasn’t even sure why anymore.

Revenge? Justice? Or was it just that I hated myself enough to destroy the only person who had ever made me feel seen?

No.

I was avengingher.

“Let me guess—you’re here because you’re scared. Scared he’s going to find out about your little mess, huh? Your skeletons? Or maybe…” She leaned in closer. “You’re just a bitter ex, trying to burn him down because he fucked you, used you, and then tossed you out like the disposable little thing you are. You thought you were different. Thought he’d choose you over his other toys. But you were just another warm body to fuck and forget. And now you’re what? Trying to get revenge? Or just whining because he moved on and left you scrambling for scraps?”

Stupid bitch.

God, I wanted to hit her.

Or maybe myself for coming here in the first place.

“Keep it up, Jasper, and I might just have to remind you where the line is. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, but push mejust a little more, and I might show you just how much I enjoy shutting people like you down. I’ll just take my story elsewhere.”

I stood, watching her squirm for a second before I made my move to leave.

As expected, she panicked.

“Okay, wait, Miss Whitenhouse, please sit down. I apologize for being… disrespectful.”

I didn’t even glance back at her, but I knew I had her exactly where I wanted her.

I turned back to her slowly. “Are you sure about that? ‘Cause, I’m perfectly fine taking my story to David McLoad over at CNN. Oh, and just so you know, I’m aware you two are fucking. Makes things a bit more… fun, don’t you think?”

Her eyes went wide for a split second, her smug façade cracking. She was trying to figure out how the hell I knew, but honestly, I wasn’t here to explain myself.

I, too, had my ways of digging up dirt, even if it wasn’t my full-time gig.

I sat back down slowly, crossing my legs, my nails digging into my palms to keep myself from shaking.

“So tell me, Miss Whitenhouse, how do you know that Angelo Lazzio murdered Paulina Dupont?

I swallowed.

There it was.

My truth, unraveling, ready to tear through everything I’d built up to this point.

It was time.

“I know he did because I have proof,” I said, voice smooth, like I wasn’t about to rip my own world to shreds.

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