Page 56 of North

Neither did I.

Evie’s breathing was sharp and uneven, and when she turned to me, her eyes were glassy with rage. “Are you okay?”

No.

Not even close.

But I couldn’t say that.

I turned my gaze to North instead, and when I finally spoke, my voice was barely a whisper.

“Was it worth it?”

His head snapped up, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

I forced myself to hold his gaze, to make him feel the weight of what he had done. “Was breaking my heart worth it?”

He flinched like I had struck him. His hands clenched at his sides, his expression unraveling.

Good.

I hoped it tore him apart.

Evie turned her fury on him then, her voice like a blade. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” she seethed, her hands shaking. “But first, I need to speak to Dad.”

She grabbed her phone off the coffee table and started pacing, her breath ragged as she scrolled through her contacts.

She pressed the call button.

It rang once. Twice.

Mark answered on the third ring, his voice calm, and composed. Too composed.

“Evie, sweetheart, what’s wrong? This isn’t a good time—”

Her breath hitched, and then she exploded.

“Not a good time?” she spat. “Lila was my best friend, Dad. My fucking best friend. And you let me believe it was all Robert Harley’s fault. You let me feel guilty for years over something you covered up!”

I watched her, watched the way her hands shook, the way her face twisted with something that looked an awful lot like heartbreak.

Mark’s voice on the other end was low, placating. “Evie, it was complicated—”

“Complicated?” she laughed bitterly, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “Complicated? You let me grieve for years thinking she died because of some reckless drunk driver, and all this time, you knew the truth? You fucking knew it wasn’t as simple as that, but you lied to me!”

Mark’s voice was nothing but static on the other end, murmured excuses, empty words.

“I did what I had to do.”

Evie’s face crumpled. “Does Liam know that? How could you? How could you lie to us? To me?” Her voice cracked, raw and broken. “No, I don’t want to hear it. I hate you.”

And then she hung up.

The sound of the call ending was deafening.

She stood there, shaking, her breaths sharp and unsteady, before she threw her phone onto the couch like it burned her. Fresh tears spilled onto her cheeks, but she wiped them away quickly like she didn’t want me to see.

She turned without another word, walking down the hallway to her bedroom.

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