I read it twice, not because it moves me, but because it is almost impressive how quickly he can dress betrayal as responsibility.
Vivian leans over.
“Classic containment language. He is not apologizing. He is checking which door is still unlocked.”
“There aren’t any,” I say.
I hope that is true.
At 1:32 a.m., Serena messages.
You’re making a mistake. Nathan chose me because I understand the world he belongs in. Don’t ruin yourself trying to punish him.
I stare until the words stop hurting and start shining.
Then I forward it to Vivian.
She reads it and makes a pleased sound.
“That helps.”
“How?”
“She is arrogant enough to keep writing.”
And Serena does.
Three more messages arrive in seven minutes. Each one sharper, less polished, more useful. She mentions Silver Coast, the forged mortgage, and investors Nathan has been misleading.
By the fourth message, she writes the sentence Vivian has been waiting for.
You signed the house paperwork whether you remember it or not, so stop pretending you’re innocent.
Vivian exhales.
“There.”
My stomach tightens. “What?”
“She just tied herself to the forgery.”