But she wasn't me. I'd never been to that beach. I'd never worn that dress. I'd never cooked in this kitchen before I moved in.
Who the hell was this woman?
The shower stopped. I heard Marcus humming, reaching for a towel.
I put the phone back. Exactly where it was. Screen down.
I needed answers. But not from him. Not yet.
Finding her was easier than I expected.
I screenshot everything before putting his phone down. Her face, their conversations, location tags from their photos. He wasn't careful — or maybe he thought he'd never get caught.
Her name was Bree. She lived twenty minutes away. She worked at a marketing firm downtown. Her Instagram was private, but her LinkedIn wasn't.