Stacy's POVThe shivering finally stopped somewhere between the lobby and the backseat of Michael's car. He held me the whole silent drive home, his hand a steady, warm weight on my thigh. The police took my statement quickly. They had the audio from the mic, the spilled water, the torn dress. They said it was solid. Matt was in custody. The word 'custody' felt too light, too temporary.He'll get out. Men like him always do.I kept that thought locked behind my teeth. Michael's arm around my shoulders tightened as we walked into the quiet, safe hush of our villa. Our villa. The word still felt new, fragile."Don't think about it," he murmured, his lips against my temple. "He's gone. We'll sue him for everything. The police will dig. They'll find everything. It's over."I wanted to believe him. I leaned into his strength, letting the clean scent of him—soap and Michael—push out the memory of cheap cologne and stale smoke. "He's like a ghost," I whispered. "Even when he's not here, he's
Last Updated : 2026-02-08
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