POV: Iris Hartwell
She should leave.
Every logical framework she'd constructed told her to leave. She was married to a man who'd married her under false pretenses. Who'd investigated her as a potential murderer. Who'd used physical intimacy as part of an infiltration strategy. Who'd documented her movements like she was a suspect rather than a spouse.
The evidence was clear. The logic was sound. The exit was justified.
Iris stood in the café and understood she wasn't going to take it.
Instead, she asked: "Why are you telling me this now?"
Julian looked at her across the table. His exhaustion had shifted into something closer to resignation.
"Because I can't have you believe I murdered your husband," he said. "Everything else I've done,the investigation, the surveillance, the silence,I can live with you knowing. But I can't live with you thinking I killed him."
