Page 84 of The Vow

“What about the rest?” I asked. There was no way every woman in this file fell into that category.

“Fake names and AI-generated images,” he said. “But they’ll never even get to the first fifty before Damon is through with them.”

My throat worked to swallow just like my mind worked to wrap itself around the idea that it had all been fake…a setup.

Oranges.

I set the phone down on the center console like it turned to hot coals in my palm. “Then why didn’t Damon say that? Why didn’t he tell me that before we met with Belmont? Warn me?”

“Didn’t he?”

“Telling me that everything isn’t as it seems isnotthe sameas informing me he was going to pull a bait and switch on Belmont and use my girls as the bait,” I snapped. “I’m sorry, but that’s not the kind of thing you can just vaguely allude to and then not expect me to react.”

“This isn’t an information game, Robbie, it’s a mind game. Do you not see that? Damon has to play Belmont into his hand?—”

“But he didn’t have to play me,” I broke in, refusing to quell my anger no matter how relieved I felt.

Even if my friends weren’t in danger, Damon still lied to me—didn’t trust me—and yet I was just supposed to blindly forgive him.

“What was the alternative?” Pat returned, growing impatient with my impertinence. “Belmont would want to verify the information before bringing Damon into this deal, right?”

“Of course.”

“And if you hadn’t reacted the way you did, how would he have done that?”

“By looking at the list and investigating each name…” I trailed off and sat back in the seat, suddenly feeling off-kilter as I met his knowing eyes in the rearview, confirming what I’d just come to realize.

If I hadn’t been shocked and furious, Belmont would’ve scrutinized the information Damon sent him—information I’d just seen with my own eyes that was forged. But because I lashed out…because Damon had to physically restrain me… I’d been a distraction and a confirmation.

“I’m the reason Belmont believed it,” I murmured, feeling like I’d just walked away from a head-on collision. My heart boomed. Mind scrambled. And adrenaline screwed with every barometer of emotion. “He still could’ve told me. I could’ve pretended,” I insisted but weakly.

“Would you have wanted to take the risk if it wasn’t good enough? If Belmont didn’t believe it?”

My teeth fit tightly together.No.If the situation had been reversed, I wouldn’t have risked me knowing the truth.

“So, I’m just supposed to be okay with it? To feel okay with having my emotions manipulated for the greater good?”

Pat’s heavy exhale laid its weight on the silence, and my gaze drifted to my balled fists.

“You feel what you want, but I won’t let you continue believing Damon would do anything to hurt you, no matter what he wants.”

My head snapped up. “Why does he want me to believe that?”

There was an opportunity back in the garage for him to explain the truth. For him to get in the car and leave with us and reveal all of this just like Pat was doing now. But he hadn’t. Damon had let me think the worst of him, let me hit him—begged me to slap him again—and then sent me off on my own.

“Because apparently all these years of punishing himself isn’t enough. He wants your punishment, too,” Pat said, sorrow flooding his tone. “You weren’t wrong in what you said.”

My brows pinched. “I said a lot of things…”

“The part where you asked Damon if he enjoyed pain now,” Pat rumbled, giving his head a small shake. “Sometimes, I think he does.”

I didn’t need to clarify that we were talking about two different kinds of pain. Pat referenced something that went far deeper than any physical harm could reach. A pain that was self-inflicted.Because of me.

My fingers curled into the soft fabric of my dress, my heart careening like a runaway train in my chest.

It still didn’t make it okay for him to manipulate myemotions. To use my anger—my fear to exact the response he wanted.

Just like you did when you threw your wedding ring into the donation box.I winced.

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