Stella's POV
The walls in Lorenzo's mansion were thinner than he realized. Or maybe I had simply grown too skilled at lingering in shadows, pressing myself into corners where I could drink in every word not meant for me. I had attained a deeper height in eavesdropping, good for me.
From the hallway outside their room, I heard the first sharp edge in his voice.
"Who took this picture?"
A pause. The sound of rustling fabric. Then Hayley's voice, uncertain, too soft for my liking.
"Why are you asking me?"
I smiled, tilting my head against the wall. My plan had landed exactly where I wanted it to. The picture I slipped into his path like poison in a wine glass had found its mark. Now, the venom worked through both their veins.
"You and Fiyero," Lorenzo snapped, the words hard enough to slice. "Why were you seen together like this?"
The smile curved wider on my lips. Oh, Lorenzo. How quick you were to doubt.
How easy it was to plant rot in the garden of your so-called trust.
