Chapter 2

I set the perfectly crisped bacon and scrambled eggs on the table, my fingers still twitching with an uncontrollable tremor.

Fresh out of the shower, Vance sat at the dining table, casually scrolling through his phone.

The scene was painfully domestic—so agonizingly normal that it sent a violent shudder down my spine.

"It poured last night," I forced the words past my lips. "Apparently, there was a fire out in the suburbs. Did you happen to catch the news?"

Vance’s knife paused over his bacon.

He lifted his head and met my gaze.

"Really? I didn't notice." He popped a piece of bacon into his mouth. "Where was the fire?"

"Out by Black Pine Lake." I locked onto his eyes, hunting for the slightest micro-expression. "Right around that abandoned cabin you used to walk by."

Vance didn’t flinch. Not even a flicker of evasion. He merely arched an eyebrow in mild surprise.

"That's a shame. Though that old place was practically begging to be torn down anyway."

"Since when do you follow the local suburban news?" he added.

"Just scrolling," I deflected, dropping my gaze and hiding behind a sip of my coffee.

My heart plummeted into my stomach. He was too calm. So completely unbothered, as if he genuinely had no idea what had happened.

After breakfast, Vance announced he was heading to his study to clear out some emails.

The second his back disappeared around the bend of the staircase, I snatched my car keys and coat, bolting out the front door.

I had to see it for myself.

What if last night was just some fever dream?

What if the cabin had been completely empty?

I tore down the road, speeding all the way to Black Pine Lake. With every mile that closed the distance, my breathing grew shallower, more frantic.

Rounding the final bend, the lake swung into view. My foot slammed on the brakes.

A long stretch of yellow police tape cordoned off the clearing just ahead.

Two massive red fire trucks idled by the roadside, flanked by a cluster of cruisers with their red and blue lights still sweeping the morning air.

The cabin that had once stood on the shoreline was completely gone. In its place lay a heap of charred rubble, thin wisps of white smoke still curling into the sky.

It wasn't a dream. I really did burn it to the ground.

I killed the engine, easing the car behind a thick stand of trees, and rolled down my window.

Several figures clad in white hazmat suits were meticulously sifting through the gray ash. A tall, plainclothes detective stood just outside the tape line, speaking into a radio.

Suddenly, one of the hazmat techs straightened up and yelled toward the detective.

"Over here! We have remains!"

The detective took off at a brisk jog toward the smoldering center.

I slipped on my sunglasses. My palms were slick with cold sweat as I white-knuckled the steering wheel.

Two officers hauled a heavy, black body bag from the wreckage.

The bag didn't look full. It sagged, flat and misshapen—a gruesome testament to how severely the fire had ravaged whatever, or whoever, was inside.

Someone was dead.

Someone actually died.

If Vance’s car was parked outside last night, who was the person inside that cabin?

A drifter seeking shelter from the storm? Or... had Vance lent his car to someone else?

My mind raced through a frantic rolodex of names. His assistant? One of his sleazy drinking buddies? Or...

Right at that moment, the plainclothes detective whipped his head around, his sharp gaze scanning the exact patch of woods where I was parked.

Panicking, I ducked down, slapped the button to raise the window, and threw the car into reverse, flooring the gas pedal to flee the scene.

For the entire drive home, it felt like an invisible hand was locked around my throat, squeezing the air out of me.

I had killed an innocent person.

I was a murderer.

The moment I stepped through the front door, Vance was just emerging from his study.

He took one look at my pale face and the mud clinging to the soles of my shoes. His brow furrowed.

"Where did you go?" he asked slowly.

"Just... ran out to the grocery store to pick some things up," I stammered.

"Did you?" Vance descended the stairs, crossing the living room to close the distance between us.

He stopped inches from me, holding my gaze captive.

"Daphne... is there something you're keeping from me?"