Everything I’m not.
Everything he clearly grew tired of.
“Do you think I should call the police?” Chrissy asks quietly, her voice breaking through my thoughts.
I take a moment before answering, letting the silence stretch just enough to feel thoughtful. “Normally, I would say yes,” I admit. “But Phillip might be right. He’s already under pressure. The investigation, the insurance questions… bringing more attention into his life might make things worse before they get better.”
She nods slowly, absorbing that.
“He thinks it’s someone connected to Whitney,” she adds. “Someone in her family.”
I tilt my head slightly. “Does he?”
It’s almost impressive, the way he redirects suspicion, the way he reshapes the narrative into something manageable, something that keeps the focus anywhere but on himself.
“He mentioned a cousin,” she says. “Someone who used to try to get money from her.”
A faint frown pulls at my mouth before I can stop it. Whitney never mentioned a cousin like that. Not once. And she told me everything. Or at least, I thought she did.
“That could be it,” I say after a moment, smoothing my expression back into place. “I think she mentioned something like that once. It didn’t sound serious.” The lie comes easily, slipping into place where it’s needed. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Chrissy exhales, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “Yeah. Probably.”
Silence settles between us again, but it’s different now. Heavier. Filled with everything she hasn’t said and everything I’m starting to understand.
“Do you feel like Phillip is telling you the truth?” I ask quietly.
She hesitates, then nods. “I think so. He gets quiet sometimes, but… I think that’s just how he is. He’s under a lot of stress. And men don’t always know how to talk about things like this.”
I offer her a small, reassuring smile. “They can be avoidant,” I say.
She blinks, clearly unsure what I mean, but she nods anyway.
I let the moment pass, shifting my tone deliberately, lightening it just enough to ease the tension I’ve helped build. “What do you say to mimosas?” I ask, sitting up slightly. “Bennett and I opened a bottle of champagne last night, and it’s going to go flat if we don’t finish it.”
A faint smile returns to her lips, fragile but real. “That sounds nice.”
“Stay right here,” I tell her, standing. “I’ll be right back.”
I move toward the house, my pace unhurried, but my mind anything but calm.
The pieces are starting to shift.
Threats. Fear. Lies layered just convincingly enough to hold together under pressure.
My brother’s voice echoes faintly in the back of my mind, a warning I didn’t fully understand until now. Phillip has enemies. Real ones. The kind that don’t make idle threats.
And if that’s true, then there’s leverage here.
Opportunity.
I step into the kitchen, reaching for the champagne, my thoughts sharpening into something more focused, more deliberate.
Chrissy sits outside, trusting and open, completely unaware of the role she’s just stepped into.
She thinks she’s confiding in me.
She doesn’t realize she’s just handed me exactly what I needed.
