Page 95 of A Violet Obsession

Something like amusement warms his face. “You’re direct. I appreciate that.”

“I’m not doing it for your benefit,” I snap, thinking of Finn’s injuries.

“No,” he says softly. “I don’t imagine you are.”

Finn hasn’t looked away from him once

“You’ve created quite a problem, Lily,” Richard Tate says.

The air seems to thin.

“I didn’t create anything.”

“Perhaps not intentionally.”

“Not at all.”

He reaches for a slim tablet on the table beside his chair, taps the screen once without turning it toward us. “I’ve seen the security footage.”

“So have I. I know it shows that I took the necklace out of the cabinet.”

Tate’s brows lift a fraction. He didn’t expect that.

“But I didn’t mean to.”

The story spills out of me. Everything Finn and I have pieced together. I have no expectation that this man will believe me, but right now, honesty seems like the best option.

For several minutes, Tate doesn’t take his eyes off me. Then he turns his head and looks at the woman he called Nora. She meets his eyes, and something passes between them. An entire conversation in one glance.

She gives the smallest nod.

Tate turns back to me. “I believe you.”

The relief is so disorienting I almost don’t trust my own ears. “You… What?”

“I believe you,” he says again. “What you’ve described is not as unusual as you think. Not here. Not to me.” His gaze sharpens, mild eyes suddenly bright and intent. “But you understand the difficulty? You took it, but you don’t know where you put it”

“No.”

Nora speaks for the first time since we entered the room. “The memory may not be gone—only buried. A skilled technician might recover it.”

Finn stiffens beside me.

“Would you be willing to do that, Lily?” Tate asks. “Undergo hypnosis to recover the memory?”

“If I do, will you let us go?” I ask.

Finn turns his head toward me, but I keep my eyes on Tate.

He smiles. “Of course.”

I don’t believe him. Not really. “Okay.”

Beside me, Finn exhales through his nose, slow and controlled

He won’t look at me.

“Excellent,” Tate says. “We’ll begin tomorrow. There’s no rushing this kind of thing, and you’re in no condition tonight.” His gaze flicks over me. “You should rest, child.”