The sirens arrived before I understood whose blood was on my dress.

That evening, I returned to the house on Calhoun Street at precisely 7:00 PM.

The lights in the foyer were dim. I could hear the murmur of voices coming from the den—Adrian’s deep, smooth cadence mixed with the melodic, breathless laughter of Summer Hale.

They weren’t even trying to hide it anymore. Now that the wedding had happened and I was “safely” recovering at home, they assumed I was too weak, too broken, and too clueless to suspect a thing.

I pushed the front door open, letting my heels click deliberately against the hardwood floor.

The voices in the den cut off instantly.

A moment later, Adrian stepped out into the hallway, hastily buttoning the top button of his dress shirt. His face wore a mask of practiced annoyance mixed with mild guilt.

“Evelyn. You’re back late. Where were you? You’re supposed to be resting your ribs.”

I didn’t answer right away. I slowly unbuttoned my trench coat, letting it slide off my shoulders and drape over the entryway bench. Underneath, I wore a simple black silk dress that accentuated the cold, razor-sharp posture I had deliberately cultivated all afternoon.

“I went for a drive, Adrian,” I said smoothly, walking past him without a backward glance toward the kitchen to pour myself a glass of iced water.

Adrian followed me, his footsteps heavy and irritated. “A drive? Dr. Cross specifically said you need strict bed rest. You’re acting completely reckless. Summer is in the den—she came by to drop off some wedding photos she salvaged from her phone.”

I took a slow sip of water, then turned to face him, a faint, enigmatic smile playing on my lips.

“Oh? How kind of her,” I murmured. “Tell me, Adrian... do the photos include the one of you standing outside the hospital emergency room with her three nights ago? Or the ones of your financial transfers from her trust account?”

Adrian’s breath hitched. The color drained from his face so fast it looked like someone had turned off his internal circulation.

“What... what are you talking about?” he stammered, his voice pitching slightly upward before he caught himself and forced a harsh scowl. “Have you been drinking? Are you paranoid because of the painkillers?”

“I’m completely sober, Adrian,” I said, stepping closer to him. The height of my heels put me almost eye-to-eye with him. “And I’m very, very clear-headed.”

From the doorway of the den, Summer appeared. She had changed into a soft cashmere sweater, her hair falling in perfect waves around her shoulders, looking every bit the delicate victim.

“Evelyn, please don't be like this,” Summer said, putting on a fragile, trembling voice. “Adrian has been worried sick about you. We’re just friends trying to process the trauma of that awful day. There’s no need to be hostile.”

I turned my gaze slowly onto Summer. The urge to wipe that manufactured innocence off her face with my bare hands was overwhelming, but I kept my composure locked down like a steel vault.

“Trauma,” I repeated softly. “Yes, crashing an SUV into a wedding arch tends to leave a lasting impression, doesn't it, Summer?”

Summer’s pupils dilated fractionally. “I—what? Are you accusing me of causing the crash? That’s insane! I was a guest! I almost got killed too!”

“Did you?” I tilted my head, smiling coldly. “Funny how your rental car assistant didn’t think so when the police pulled the prepaid debit card records this afternoon.”

Adrian stepped between us, his face contorted in sheer panic and rage. “Evelyn, stop this madness right now! If you’re going to throw wild, defamatory accusations around, I want a divorce lawyer here tomorrow morning!”

“A divorce?” I laughed softly, a sound devoid of any warmth. “Oh, Adrian. Divorce is far too kind for what you two deserve. Why would I divorce you when I can dismantle everything you’ve built piece by piece?”

Before either of them could speak, my phone buzzed in my hand.

It was a text from Marcus Vance: The corporate fraud report has been filed with the Charleston Police Department’s financial crimes division. Warrants will be signed by morning.