When he held me, I should’ve pushed him away. But instead, I let him… and smelled it—a feminine scent.
And for a stupid second, I wanted to believe.
‘Maybe that video’s fake. Maybe he had no choice. Maybe—God, maybe—there’s some kind of explanation.
‘Because he’s my Orville. We’ve known each other for 20 long years. We’re each other’s first love!
‘So how the hell could he fall in love with the psycho who murdered our baby?!’
I clutched his shirt and looked up at him through blurry eyes.
“Orville… Tell me… That video from France—it’s fake, right? Tell me they edited it or something.
“You said Blaire was dead. You told me you scattered her ashes. You can’t be in love with her. Right?”
He froze. His eyes scanned my face.
“You… saw it?
“Presley… It’s not what you think. I can’t—I can’t explain it like this. Just wait for Dad. He’ll tell you everything.”
My eyes widened. “What? Dad? You mean, he knew? He knew Blaire’s not dead? He knew you’re making a baby with my sister without telling me?!”
His jaw clenched. “Presley, don’t say it like that. It’s not what you think.”
He pulled me closer and pressed my hand to his chest as if his heart was still mine.
“Darling, listen. We did it for you.