“Because I’ve seen what he’s been doing,” he continued, his voice lower now, more controlled. Like each word had been chosen carefully before being spoken.
“Not just out there, not just to others… but to you.” My stomach dipped at that.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, the question sounding as vulnerable as I felt. Because something in the way he said it didn’t feel like a bluff. Didn’t feel like a guess.
Bo reached behind him, where a folder was rolled up and tucked into his waistband. He held it out toward me, not forcing it into my hands, not pushing, just… offering it.
“Look,” he said giving it a shake in my direction.
But I didn’t take it, at least not straight away. Because something about it felt wrong before I had even touched it. Like I already knew it contained something undeniable. Something I couldn’t fight against on Wye’s behalf. That whatever was inside it wasn’t just something I was going to be able to forget.
“That’s not necessary,” I said, shaking my head slightly, even as my gaze dropped to it despite myself.
“I don’t need to…”
“Yes, you do, girly,” he cut in, firmer this time, though not unkind, just… certain.
“Because whatever you think this is, whatever you think he feels for you, you need to understand exactly what you’ve stepped into.” That hit harder than it should have. Because it wasn’t anger, jealousy, or even self-preservation. No…
It was concern.
“What is it?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I actually wanted the answer. But Bo didn’t hesitate this time.
“It’s you.” That made my breath catch. A small, sharp inhale that I couldn’t quite stop as my eyes snapped back up to his.
“What?”
“Everything,” he said, his tone steady, unwavering.
“Your entire life. Your history. Your education. Your family. Your friends. Your finances. Every place you’ve ever lived, and who you have ever dated. Every job, every client... every single aspect of your life.” Each word felt like another hit to my heart and kick to my gut. I started shaking my head, even as I snatched the folder out of his hand and started to see for myself that he was right. It was my whole life in black and white.
“Where did you get this?” I asked, making Bo sigh.
“I broke into his office in the city, found the folder on his desk.” My eyes snapped up to his, and he nodded down at the paper,
“The date the files were sent to be printed is at the top.” I looked down and gasped.
“The first night we met,”I whispered.
“So now you see, he can’t be trusted.” Something inside me dropped.
“But I don’t understand… why would he…?”
“Invade your life without you knowing? Decide what you are to him before you ever got a say in it?” Bo finished off for me making me flinch.
My eyes lowered back down to the file in my hand. Lines of information arranged with cold precision. Names, dates, places, all laid out in a way that felt clinical and detached. Like something observed rather than lived. And then my breath caught, because the details didn’t only surround my life but also my sister’s and my mother’s. Details that had no right being there, not like this, not gathered and ordered as though my family were merely something to be studied instead of them being the people that I loved.
“No…” I breathed, the word leaving me quietly, as though saying it might somehow make it less real.
But it didn’t.
Because when I turned the page, it got worse. The details more precise. The places I went to regularly, the times I left the house. The places I shopped, the café I would meet my sister at sometimes on lunch breaks, and the fact that I preferred sitting by the window. Half of this I had no idea how they knew it all, as most of it hadn’t happened since first meeting him. Yet here it was, all of it written down in the same detached, methodical way that made my stomach twist sharply.
My fingers tightened on the paper before I even realized I was doing it. The edges crumpled slightly beneath my grip as something far more unsettled began to take hold.
“This… this isn’t…” I started, my voice faltering as I looked up at Bo, something ugly and disbelieving rising in my chest.
“Why would he…”
