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He pulled out his phone and tapped a few buttons. “Mr. Larry managed to recover something—a video. From two years ago. The night she met you.”

Xander handed him the phone and pressed play.

The screen lit up.

It was grainy footage, no audio, but the timestamp and the angle were clear. Late night. A car parked on an empty, quiet road.

Lorenzo watched as his past self stumbled into the backseat. His movements were slow, uncoordinated—drugged. He leaned back against the seat, completely unaware of what was coming.

A minute later, another figure entered the frame. A young woman. Her steps were uneven, like she was dizzy or disoriented. She kept checking her phone like she was calling for a ride.

She then stumbled toward his car.

Lorenzo leaned forward, eyes locked on the screen.

And then… he saw the face.

His heart dropped.

His hand clenched the phone tighter. “That’s… Krystal,” he whispered. “Not Esther.”

“Yes, sir.” Xander nodded, a grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. “That’s what I wanted to show you.”

Lorenzo’s eyes stayed glued to the footage.

The video continued. Krystal opened the car door. Lorenzo grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside. Nearly an hour passed, and then Krystal stumbled out of the car, visibly shaken, and ran off.

And then… another woman stepped out from behind a concrete pillar.

She had a phone to her ear and slowly approached the same car.

The camera caught her face clearly.

Esther.

Lorenzo's entire body tensed.

Esther looked up and waved her hand at someone in the distance.

A car pulled around from behind. The man inside stuck his arm out the window and gave her a thumbs-up.

Esther smirked, then climbed into Lorenzo’s car.

Moments later, the car Esther had signaled slammed into theirs from behind.

At first, it approached slowly. But then, as if the driver slammed the accelerator, the car jerked forward and crashed into theirs with a violent slam.

The black car rammed into theirs at full force. The violent jolt sent the car flying forward. Metal crunched. The screen jolted with the hit. The car slammed into a wall and stilled, smoke curling up from the hood.

Lorenzo stared, jaw clenched, the old pain in his hands flaring up just at the memory of that night. That crash had nearly ruined his ability to hold a pen without trembling. That was thenight Lorenzo’s hands had suffered severe nerve damage. The lingering pain, the trembles.

He remembered waking up beside Esther, confused, his vision blurry. Her shirt slightly undone. Her expression filled with guilt and innocence. She had said they’d been together.

But now, seeing the footage, it all made sense.

She hadn’t been buttoning up after a night together.

She was unbuttoning—staging it, trying to make it look like something had happened between them.