“You’ve got to be kidding me…” I whisper.
He smiles.
Polite.
Like we’re acquaintances.
“Tessa,” he says. “It’s been a long time.”
My heart slams against my ribs.
“What are you doing here?”
“I think you know.”
My hands curl into fists.
“No. I don’t.”
He steps further inside.
Calm. Observant. In control.
“The video,” he says.
My stomach drops.
Of course.
“You don’t get to just walk in here like this,” I snap. “Not after everything—”
“I’m not here to argue,” he says gently.
That tone.
Like he’s reasonable.
Like he’s not the reason my life fell apart.
“I’m here to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
My chest tightens.
“It affected me,” I snap. “Six years in prison. You remember that?”
“I do.”
Something in me snaps.
“Do you? Because I don’t remember you doing anything while they—”
“Tessa.”
The warning in his voice is sharp now.
