Belle's POV
"It's about Noah."
The words landed like a blow. For a heartbeat, I couldn't even breathe. Noah. Of all people, Noah.
I stared at Carter, waiting for him to take it back, to say he'd misspoken. But his gaze didn't waver. He meant every syllable.
"What do you mean, it's about Noah?" My voice came out thin, higher than I intended.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he nudged the folder closer to me. "You should look."
I hesitated, but my hands moved on their own, pulling the folder toward me. The manila cover scraped softly against the wood. I flipped it open.
Photographs stared back at me.
Noah at a restaurant table. Across from him,Marcus Hall. Both leaning in, mid-conversation, glasses of whiskey between them.
Another photo: Noah at a gala, Marcus beside him, their hands clasped in a firm shake, smiles plastered across their faces like old friends reunited.
