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“Yes,” I tell him. “And can you blame me? You attacked me. If I’m going to come back, then we need to lay some ground rules.”

“Yeah, we certainly do.” Scott’s eyes narrow. “You’re fatter than when you left. Did you know that?”

I squeeze my hands into fists. But the ED voice stays silent. Because it’s not true. My weight hasn’t changed at all. I know it. Scott knows it.

“I mean, this can’t keep going.” He gestures at me. “I’m just worried about your health.”

He’s been repeating that same lie for the last two years. Undermining my recovery at every turn. But somehow, tonight, it’s easy to see his words for what they are. He doesn’t care about my health. He wants to control me.

“You’re right,” I say as sweetly as I can. The lie gives me a surge of adrenaline. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? So we can talk things through. Decide what we’ll do next.” I step closer to him. “Maybe I can start going to the gym with you again.”

He’ll like the idea. Scott married me in large part because I was a story he loves to tell: the ugly duckling who put in the hard work to become a swan. He wasn’t attracted to my body, even when I was thinner, but he was attracted to my eating disorder.

So I’ll offer it back to him.

But then Scott replies in a flat voice: “Maybe.”

With that one word, alarm twists inside me. That’s not the answer I expected.

Scott walks in a half-circle, appraising me. “You know, I only agreed to this because I have some things to talk toyouabout.”

I don’t like this. I have to stop myself from glancing over at the window to look for Sawyer.

Where are you? I think desperately, as if he can hear my thoughts. But whatever magic he is, it’s not that.

“What do you have to talk to me about?” I counter, trying to press confidence into my voice. “Youattackedme, Scott.”

“I did.” He stops, still watching me. “But you lied to me.”

I go very still, afraid that if I move I’ll give myself away.

“About what?” My heartbeat pounds in my ears.

Scott moves a step closer. “Yesterday,” he says, “when we spoke on the phone, you asked me about the PI. One.” He holds up one finger.

I dig my nails so deeply into my palms that I’m sure I’ve drawn blood.

I hope Sawyer smells it.

“And yet,twoof my best guys came out to visit you. Matt Baro.” He holds up a second finger. “And Logan Greer.”

“I only ever spoke to one,” I say, but there’s a shudder in my voice that I know betrays me. “Matt Baro, I think? The blond? I never met a Logan Greer.”

“That, Edie, is the lie.” Scott’s smile stretches cruelly across his face, and when he steps toward me, I step back. My body rushes with panic. And still, there’s no sign of Sawyer. No heavy footsteps outside the door.

He’s abandoned you.

The thought spurns a dozen others, all cascading through my head at once. He’s not really Sawyer Caldwell. Scott hired him. This has all been Scott. This has all been some trap that Scott, with his billionaire’s boredom, orchestrated to humiliate me?—

No, that doesn’t make sense. I know it doesn’t make sense. Scott wouldn’t kill his own men… I don’t think.

But then where the hell is Sawyer?

“I know you spoke to Logan because Logan called me while he was tailing you after he spotted you buying—” Scott pretends to pause, the same stupid trick he uses when he’s talking to potential clients “—house painting supplies? That can’t be right. I told him, Edie Hensner isn’t doing any kind of manual labor. It would interfere with stuffing her face.”

I glare at him, barely registering the insult. The panic overwhelms it. We never checked Logan’s phone, did we? My mind, at least, had been elsewhere.

“The last I heard,” Scott says, “you were pulling up in front of an abandoned church, and he was getting out to talk to you. And then—” He ripples his fingers. “Silence. Now, bear in mind, this isafterMatt also went missing while here in scenic Altarida.” Scott’s grin widens further, and his teeth are too white, too neat, too perfect. “So why are you lying to me, Edie?”