Could so many hours have passed without me being aware of it? No. Surely not.
Did they fuck with the clock?
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
How the hell don’t I know?!
My wet dress has dried, though, and it’s not exactly warm in here. Goose bumps pop up in a silent reminder that yeah, I’m goddamn freezing. And man, do I need to use the bathroom.
When I ask to go to the restroom, he places the shots in front of me, splays them out across the table, revealing grainy footage that’s less than incriminatory but...
Shit.
It’s the fact the blonde woman he’s circled is wearing a short black dress that makes my heart skip.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
There has to be an explanation.
But it’s only by chance that I switched into one of Camille’s gowns.
Because the woman in the picture is definitely wearing the dress Maxim sent to me—the cutouts at the waist, that sweetheart neckline, and the peplum at the hip all match.
Is it time to hyperventilate yet?
Watching the timeline progression of the woman who looks unerringly like me from a distance striding through the crowd and heading outside, has my lungs in a chokehold.
Despite the fact they’ve shown me pictures thataren’tme, it’s the potential betrayal that’s gnawing on my last nerve.
Who’d have known about that fucking dress aside from Maxim?
The shop assistant. The person who made the delivery. Misha?I can tell he doesn’t like me. Has Maxim’s brother betrayed us both?
The detective raps his knuckles on the table. “Focus.”
“Phone. Call,” I reiterate.
Wallowicz’s lips twist with derision. “It’s you, Victoria. You’re staring at literal proof that we’re going to use to lock youaway for a very long time. I’m doing this to help you. By refusing to confess, you’re just making yourself look bad.”
“Shame that I know my rights and my rights don’t make me look bad. They make me look competent.” I hold his stare. “Phone call.”
He gets up, slams the door, and leaves me cuffed to the goddamn table. My shoulders are aching from the position they have me in, one forward, the other back, and the chair’s fixed so I know they use discomfort as a method of interrogation.
I close my eyes again.
Misha—Maxim would kill him for betraying me, unless he sanctioned the act.
Shop assistant—easy enough to bribe.
Delivery guy—guards tend to intercept my deliveries so it could be the original delivery driverorone of the guards.
I shuffle through my memories like they’re a catalogue and I seek that one out.
