Brandon's POV
The phone call ended, but the words stuck to me like scars.
"I need you to trust me Elizabeth. You know Margaret can't suspect anything."
My father's voice, low and certain, lingered in my skull long after the line went dead. I could still hear Elizabeth's whisper, her half-plea, half-submission: Okay. Just be careful.
I stared at her, every vein in me lit with fury.
"You lied," I shot, the words slicing out of me.
Her eyes widened, her head shaking as she rose from the chair. "No—no, Brandon, please—"
"Don't." My voice cracked, raw, shaking with more than anger. Disgust. Disappointment. A crack in everything I thought I knew. I stormed toward the door, then spun on her. "You liar! You said there was nothing going on with you and Dad, but I just heard you—" My throat burned. "God, how can I be so stupid?"
Elizabeth lunged forward, hands lifted as if to grab mine, as if touch alone could pacify me. "Brandon, I swear—"
