69. Chapter 69
Cate
Present
The dishes sat in the sink longer than they needed to.
Trevor had offered to wash them. I’d said no.
“I’ve got it,” I’d told him lightly.
He hadn’t argued.
He was in a good mood now. Relaxed again. Composed. The earlier tension smoothed back into something charming and familiar.
He poured himself another glass of wine and moved into the living room, flipping through channels without really watching anything.
I dried my hands slowly on a towel.
The ring felt heavy in my pocket.
He knew I’d been in his office.
He knew something had shifted, but he didn’t know how much.
Not yet.
I walked into the living room and sat on the opposite end of the couch.
Trevor glanced at me. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yes.”
The silence stretched.
The television flickered uselessly between us.
“I’ve been thinking,” I said.
“Dangerous,” he replied with a faint smile.
I didn’t return it.
“About John.”
The remote stilled in his hand. “Okay,” he said carefully.
“About how fast everything happened after he disappeared.”
Trevor muted the television.
“I stepped in because you needed someone,” he said. Not defensive.
Not yet.
“I know.”
“And I would do it again.”
I believed that, which made it worse.
I reached into my pocket.
His eyes followed the movement automatically.
Slowly, deliberately, I set the ring on the coffee table between us.
The gold caught the light.
It didn’t spin. It didn’t roll.
It just sat there.
Trevor didn’t look at it immediately.
His gaze stayed on my face.
“What is that?” he asked.
His voice was steady.
Too steady.
“You tell me.”
His eyes remained on mine a moment longer, then they dropped.
I watched it happen; the moment recognition flickered across his expression. Not shock, not surprise.
Recognition.
And something else.
Resignation.
His jaw flexed once.
He leaned back into the couch, slow, and deliberate.
“Where did you get that?” he asked.
“In your desk drawer.”
The silence that followed was dense enough to press against my ears.
He didn’t deny it.
Didn’t reach for it.
Didn’t pretend it was unfamiliar.
He just looked at it.
Then at me.
And for the first time since I’d known him, I saw him thinking without trying to soften it for me.
Calculating.
I kept my voice even when I said, “It has his initials inside.”
Trevor’s gaze sharpened slightly.
“I know."
Not I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Not It’s not what you think.
I know.
The quiet admission landed harder than a confession.
My heart pounded, but my face stayed still. “Why do you have it?” I asked.
He inhaled slowly through his nose, then exhaled just as slowly.
“Why couldn’t you leave it alone, Cate?” he asked quietly.
The question hit like a slap.
I blinked. “What?”
“You were safe,” he continued. His voice wasn’t raised. It wasn’t angry. It was… disappointed. “You had everything. Stability. Security. A life that didn’t revolve around a ghost.”
My throat tightened.
“You went digging,” he said. “You called the detective. You pulled Seth back into it.”
“Did you do something to him?” I asked.
The words felt foreign in my mouth.
Trevor’s gaze didn’t waver. “I did what needed to be done,” he said.
There was no tremor.
No shame.
Just a statement of fact.
The room tilted slightly.
“But… why?” My voice cracked despite myself. “He was my fiancé.”
“He was in your way.”
The simplicity of it stole the air from my lungs.
Trevor leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You were drowning in him,” he said. “In the idea of him. You would’ve married him. You would’ve tied yourself to a man who couldn’t even see what he had.”
I shook my head slowly.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I already did,” he replied.
The calm certainty in his tone made my skin go cold.
“You loved him,” Trevor said, softer now. “But he didn’t deserve you.”
“That wasn’t your decision.”
“It became mine the second I realized he was going to waste you.”
My heart was slamming so hard I could hear it.
“You don’t even sound sorry,” I whispered.
Trevor tilted his head slightly. “For loving you?” he asked.
The words made my stomach turn.
“For killing him.”
His eyes flicked back to the ring. “I gave you ten years,” he said quietly. “Ten years of safety. Of comfort. Of not having to wonder where he was.”
“You took him from me.”
“I gave you something better.”
The arrogance of it was staggering.
“You gave me a lie,” I said.
He leaned back slowly, studying me. “No,” he said. “I gave you a future.”
I didn't know what to say. The silence stretched; the ticking clock on the wall sounded louder than it ever had.
“I never meant for you to find that,” he said after a moment, nodding slightly toward the ring.
That was the closest he came to regret.
Not the murder.
The discovery.
“You kept it,” I said.
He didn’t deny that either.
“You have no idea what it’s like,” he said quietly, “to do something that large and carry it alone.”
The audacity almost made me laugh.
“You’re not the victim here.”
His expression hardened slightly. “No,” he agreed. “I’m not.”
There was a long pause, then softly he added, “But I’m also not the villain you’re trying to make me.”
The words chilled me.
“You killed him.”
“He was going to leave you.”
I stared at him. “What?”
Trevor watched my reaction carefully. “He went out that night because he was planning to tell Seth he couldn’t do it,” he said. “The wedding. The life. He was already unraveling.”
“That’s not true.”
“You think he went for a walk because he needed air?” Trevor’s voice sharpened just slightly. “He went because he was running.”
“You’re lying.”
Trevor held my gaze. “Am I?”
The doubt tried to creep in.
I crushed it.
“You don’t get to rewrite him,” I said.
Trevor’s expression shifted, just a fraction. “Cate,” he said quietly, “I did this for you.”
The room felt smaller.
Closer.
“You don’t do that to someone you love,” I said.
He went very still at that.
“I love you,” he replied.
Not tender.
Not pleading.
Possessive.
Final.
“And I won’t let anyone take you from me again.”
The words landed heavy, because there was only one person left who could.
Me.
I looked at the ring between us, then back at him.
And for the first time since I’d walked into this house years ago, I saw it clearly.
This wasn’t protection.
This wasn’t devotion.
This was ownership.
And ownership, when threatened, becomes something else entirely.
Trevor leaned forward slightly.
“Now,” he said, voice calm again. “We need to talk about what happens next.”