The morning after the trial, the sun is too bright.I'm sitting on the balcony, coffee in hand, watching Paris glitter like nothing has changed. But everything has changed. Adrian is in custody. Oracle is deleted. The trial is over. And I'm still here, in this penthouse, with this woman, trying to figure out what comes next.Celeste joins me, settling into the chair beside me. She's wearing one of my shirts again — the white one, the one she knows I like. Her hair is loose. Her feet are bare.She looks almost peaceful."Did you ever trust me?" I ask.The question comes out before I can stop it. I've been holding onto it since the night I found the logs, since the moment I realized she'd been tracking me like a data point instead of loving me like a person.Celeste doesn't answer immediately.She sets down her coffee. Turns to face me. Her expression is unreadable — the old mask, the one I thought she'd stopped wearing."Yes," she says at last. "Just not in the way you deserved."The w
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