"More wine, Jake?"Richard's voice echoed in his head."Hannah tells me you're in contracting. Always good to have a man who works with his hands."
Jake had smiled, played his part. All while knowing exactly what Richard Everett was. All while gathering evidence, building a case, preparing to destroy everything Hannah loved.
The first time he'd sat across from Richard in interrogation, he'd seen it immediately—that calculating light behind the friendly smile. The predator wearing a businessman's mask.
"You understand how this works,"Richard had said, casual as discussing the weather."Everyone wants something. TheHarrisons wanted to save their pharmacy. The Wilsons wanted their son in college. I just... helped them believe."
Jake's hands curled into fists, remembering Hannah's face in the prison parking lot. Her broken whisper about lies and trust and growing up.
Because Richard hadn't just stolen money.
He'd stolen faith.
He'd stolen innocence.
He'd stolen his daughter's ability to believe in anything.
And Jake had helped him do it.
Bile rose in his throat. He stumbled to the bushes, retching until his chest burned. Until the taste in his mouth matched the bitterness in his soul.
When he straightened, the house seemed to mock him. Every window, every shadow, every memory of Hannah's laugh echoing through these rooms—all of it tainted now.
"I love that you feel safe with Jake,"Richard had told Hannah over dessert one night."A father worries, you know. But I can see how well he protects you."
His body remembered other nights too. Hannah leading him upstairs to her cozy little apartment, moonlight painting her skin silver as she'd pulled him into her bedroom. The way she'd trusted him completely, giving herself to him with an openness that had undone him.
The nausea hit harder.
Because hehadn'tbeen lying about who he was inside—every touch, every kiss, every whisper had been real. But he'd come to her bed wearing a false life. He'd let her fall into bed with a man who didn't technically exist.
Had he taken advantage? Had he crossed an unforgivable line?
He remembered her soft gasps, the way she'd melted into him, how she'd looked at him like he hung the moon. He'd been so sure then that he was one of the good guys. That because his feelings were real, it made everything okay.
But had he given enough thought to the ethics? The morality of seducing a woman under false pretenses?
Wasit false though? The way his heart had raced when she touched him, the way his body had known hers like coming home, the absolute certainty that this—this—was the truest thing he'd ever lived...
Jake pressed his forehead against the cool brick of the house, remembering Hannah's body wrapped around his, her lips breathing his name—his real name—against his skin. He'd never felt more honest than in those moments. Never felt more like himself than when he was loving her.
But that didn't make it right. That didn't make it ethical. That didn't make it forgivable.
"You were supposed to protect her," Jake whispered to the empty house. His voice cracked. "That was your job. Your whole damn job."
But he hadn't protected her.
He'd been the weapon that destroyed her world.
He'd been the lie that broke her heart.
He'd been everything Richard Everett was—another man who'd used her trust like a tool.
Jake turned away, unable to look at the house anymore. But he couldn't escape the memories. Couldn't escape the weight of what he'd done.
Because in trying to bring down a monster, he'd become one.
In trying to expose a liar, he'd told the cruelest lies.
