She stepped back again.
His anger had shifted away from me, exactly as I had hoped.
Rachel’s hand slid into her purse.
Marcus saw the movement.
“What are you reaching for?”
“My keys.”
“Take your hand out.”
“Marcus—”
“Take it out.”
Slowly, Rachel withdrew her hand.
She was not holding keys.
She was holding a second phone.
Marcus snatched it from her.
“What is this?”
“My work phone.”
“You said you only had one.”
“I forgot.”
“You forgot?”
He pressed the screen. It opened without a code.
Rachel lunged for it, but Marcus pushed her away. She stumbled into the counter, knocking over a glass. It struck the floor and broke into glittering pieces.
Marcus scrolled through her messages.
His expression darkened with every swipe.
I could not see the screen, but I did not need to.
Rachel had always believed deleting a conversation meant it disappeared. She had never understood backups, mirrored accounts, or cloud storage.
