Chapter 8: On Her Doorstep

By Sunday morning the video had changed sides.

The full recording had been posted by three different guests before breakfast.

The headline on the biggest page read: KINGSBURY HEIR'S "LOYALTY TEST" WAS A SET-UP.

Under it, the comments I had read on Friday had turned over completely.

"Poor girl."

"His mother clapped. His own mother."

"The friend kissed him in the film. In the FILM."

I sat on my couch in sweatpants with my phone in my hand and did not feel better.

I had wanted this for two days, and now that I had it, I felt hollow.

A text came in from a number I knew.

Sierra: Please don't ruin him. He never meant it. I'd do anything to take it back.

I blocked her.

At eight, Rafe had arrived with the loan papers, and I had let him in.

He sat at my kitchen table with his jacket off and a leather folder open, reading each page twice before he handed it over.

At nine, someone knocked.

I thought it was Bea, bringing the soup she had promised.

I opened the door.

Brooks stood in the hallway in a wrinkled shirt, his hair a mess, holding a bunch of white roses.

"Sylvie," he said. "Please."

I did not move out of the doorway.

"How did you get past the lobby?"

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