Page 305 of The Heart You Kept

Jealousy runs through me as I scroll through the pictures.

“It would be old footage for sure,” Thomas replies. “Where even are they?”

“On this yacht,” I fume. “He told me he never saw her through the day, that it was a nighttime-only thing.”

“So you know who this person is?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s one of his old fuck buddies. Her name is Isadora.”

“It could be doctored, probably is actually.”

“Hmm.” I keep scrolling through the photos, there are ones of her getting onto the yacht as security stands around and then ones of her leaving. I scroll back to the top and then I see it. Angelo is one of the guards on the gangplank as she boards.

“Fuck,” I whisper.

“What?”

“The guard in the photo.”

“What about him?”

“He only started two weeks ago.”

“What?”

Fury begins to pump through me. “I’ve got to go.”

“It’s probably doctored, don’t believe it—” I hang up on him mid-sentence and storm to the sauna and tear open the door. Edward is lying on his back with his eyes closed.

“What the fuck is this?” I hold my phone out.

“What?” He lifts his head, half asleep.

“Why does this say that Isadora was on this yacht last week?”

“What?” He sits up suddenly. “Show me.” He snatches the phone off me and looks at the photos. “Calm down.” He stands and something about the way he says calm down confirms my worst fear.

“Was Isadora on this yacht last week?”

“It’s not how it⁠—”

“Was she on this fucking yacht last week or not?” I scream as I lose all control.

“She came to me for help,” he stammers as he wraps a towel around his waist.

“Obviously.” I growl as I look at the photo of him shirtless and holding her in his arms. “I know what she needed help with.” I storm from the sauna.

“Get back here.” He scrambles to pick up his clothes.

“Go fuck yourself.” I grab my handbag and he runs after me and grabs me from behind, he throws my bag on the floor and holds me, my arms down by my sides.

“She thinks someone is trying to kill her and she came to me for help,” he stammers. “I swear to you that’s all it was.”

“When was this?”

“Last week.”

I fight out of his grip. “So she was here last week, in my home. In your fucking arms while you are undressed and you didn’t mention it once?” I shriek. “Not. Once.”