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My voice breaks.

I hate that it does.

I hate even more that I'm crying now.

Angry tears.

Hurt tears.

The kind I can't stop because this isn't some asshole on the internet questioning my integrity.

It's Mitchell.

The man I—fuck.

The man I love.

“She told me Garrison was the real story. She told me you were hiding something about him.”

“What else did she say?”

There's something lethal in his voice now. I don't care.

“She told me the thirty-day contract was never about giving me access. It was about controlling me.”

He says nothing. My stomach twists.

“She said you had me investigated.”

Still nothing.

Oh God.

“She said you brought me into your house because you wanted to know what I knew.”

“Layla—”

“And she said you were fucking me because apparently that was part of the strategy too.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“She also called me a fat bitch and asked if I honestly thought I was your type, so you'll forgive me if yesterday wasn't one of my better fucking days.”

“She's fired.”

“I don't give a shit!”

The words explode out of me. Because I don't.

Not right now.

Myrna being a jealous bitch isn't the thing breaking my heart.

Mitchell's silence is.

“I want to know if she was lying.”

“About the things she said to you? About us? Yes! Of course, yes!”