"That... that's not possible!" Irene snapped, grabbing her purse and heels as she headed for the bedroom. She sounded certain.
Ethan caught her arm, his grip firm. "Irene, be honest with me," he said through clenched teeth. "I need to know where we stand before this thing spirals out of control."
She jerked her arm away, dropping her things in the process. Her face twisted in disbelief.
"Wait, you think I lied about that?"
He didn't answer. His silence said more than words ever could.
Her brows rose, the disbelief replaced by rage. "If you don't even trust me, why did you drag me into your stupid little plan in the first place?"
"Irene, this isn't about trust. It's about—"
"No, Ethan! I told you, I spoke to the driver yesterday. If he's dead now, it definitely wasn't from the accident. If you trusted me enough, we wouldn't be having this conversation again."
He hesitated. "But the police—"
