“And you were always a manipulative narcissistic bitch underneath your charity galas and perfect Instagram captions,” I snap, sharper than I intended. “I just didn’t see it soon enough.”
For a second, I think she’s going to slap me.
But instead, she straightens, brushes invisible lint from her jacket with a single, composed motion, and smiles.
Not the tearful, broken smile she was playing at five minutes ago.
A different smile.
A cold one.
Then she turns on her heel and walks away, heels clicking smartly against the pavement.
I stand there for a minute, fuming, watching her disappear into the lobby of the inn.
Something about it itches at the back of my mind.
Why the performance?
Why goad me into saying something cruel when there was no one around to hear it?
Unless...
Unless she didn’t need witnesses.
Unless she had something else.
The unease settles heavy in my gut.
I walk to my truck, the back of my neck prickling the whole way, but there’s nothing left to see.
Just the empty parking lot, the polite façade of the inn, and a gnawing sense that something very bad just got set in motion.
And I have no idea what it is.
Chapter Twenty
Penny
The video plays on my phone screen, grainy and low-lit, like it was recorded from a distance—or maybe deliberately made to look that way.
I watch as Richard’s voice cuts through the crackling audio.
“You’re cruel,” Rebecca whispers, her voice pitched high with fake tears, the perfect wounded performance.
There’s a pause—long enough to make you lean in.
Then Richard’s voice, sharp and cold: “And you were always a stupid bitch.”
I flinch, thumb pausing the video automatically.
The words hang in the air like a bad smell.
Something about it sets my teeth on edge immediately.
The first part—the "you're cruel"—sounds natural. Real.
But the last sentence... there's something wrong about it. Like it’s been tacked on. The tone is a little too flat, the rhythm just a hair too stiff.