Page 273 of Kentrell

Unless…

Unless he wanted me to find it.

I wiped at my face, but the tears kept coming. I couldn’t stop them.

Everything in me was spiraling—love, fear, disbelief, heartbreak—like I was split in half between the man I knew and the man he clearly used to be.

Maybe stillwas.

I clutched my chest, trying to breathe through it, but all I could hear was his voice again, like it was playing in slow motion in the back of my mind:

“I’m good at making problems disappear. Smooth transitions. Clean exits. Satisfaction guaranteed.”

I pulled my knees up to my chest in that big leather chair, wrapped my arms around them, and pressed my face to the curve. Trying to hide from the facts sitting two feet away. From the ache clawing at my ribs.

This was why he hadn’t said it back.

The thought came uninvited, but once it arrived, it refused to leave.

This was why.

This was why Kentrell never said “I love you.”

Because I was theonlyfool who fell in love.

I clung to the way he made me feel. To the little things—the flowers, the food runs, the forehead kisses, the way he looked atme like I was his air. That damned tattoo! He played me. It was all just an act. A delay tactic to keep me soft and distracted?

To make theexitclean.

I kept hearing my own voice from that night, so engrossed in the pleasure he was giving me, telling him I loved him without hesitation. And I kept remembering the way he faltered. Not because he didn’t care. Not because he was scared.

But because hecouldn’tsay it.

Because love was never part of the plan.

I swallowed hard, pressing a trembling hand to my stomach. My body still felt warm from the way he touched me this morning. My chest still carried the imprint of his breath.

How could something so real be wrapped in a lie?

How couldhe?

I looked around the office like it might give me answers. Like the truth could be sitting somewhere between the throw blanket on the couch or the stacks of books I hadn’t noticed before.

But all I found was silence.

And that damn folder.

I should report this.

Ihadto report this.

I was an attorney. An officer of the court. I’d read enough to qualify this as a credible threat, even if he hadn’t acted on it.

Even if… he might never have planned to.

But that’s what scared me the most.

Because deep down—past the heartbreak, past the betrayal—I still wanted to believehe wasn’t going to do it.

---