71. Chapter 71
Cate
Present
We need to talk about what happens next.
The words didn’t sound like a threat.
They sounded administrative.
Practical.
Like we were discussing insurance coverage or a vacation plan.
My pulse thudded in my ears anyway.
I kept my breathing steady. Slow. Even. I couldn’t let him see the shift - the moment fear replaced disbelief. The moment I stopped seeing my husband and started seeing the man who had ended someone else’s life and slept beside me all these years later.
“Okay,” I said quietly.
Trevor studied me, measuring something.
Then he stood.
Not abruptly.
Not angrily.
Just… decisively.
He walked toward the front door.
I watched his back. The careful set of his shoulders. The control in every step.
The click of the deadbolt was soft.
Precise.
Final.
He didn’t look at me while he did it.
He slid the chain into place too.
Then he leaned back against the door, folding his arms loosely across his chest.
Waiting.
For me.
The message was clear.
You’re not leaving.
My hands felt cold. I pressed them together in my lap to hide the tremor.
“You don’t need to lock it,” I said. My voice sounded distant to my own ears.
Trevor tilted his head slightly.
“Of course I do,” he replied. “We’re having a sensitive conversation.”
I swallowed. “You think I’m going to run?”
He gave a small, almost amused exhale. “I think you’re overwhelmed.”
He pushed off the door and crossed the room slowly, reclaiming his spot, but not sitting this time. He remained standing, just inside my line of sight.
“I need you calm,” he said. “Not reactive.”
“I’m not reactive.”
“You called the detective behind my back.”
There it was.
The crack.
Still smooth.
Still controlled.
But sharp.
“I needed answers,” I said carefully.
“You had me.”
I forced myself to hold his gaze. “That wasn’t the same thing.”
Something shifted behind his eyes.
“Cate,” he said, voice lowering, “do you understand what you’ve done?”
My heart stuttered. “What I’ve done?”
“You involved law enforcement after I asked you not to.”
“You asked me not to be managed.”
His jaw tightened. “That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant.”
The silence stretched.
Trevor stepped closer.
Not fast.
Not threatening.
But close enough that I could see the small pulse in his neck. Close enough that I could smell the wine on his breath.
“I protected you,” he said. “For a decade.”
“You protected yourself.”
The words slipped out before I could soften them.
His eyes darkened.
“Be careful,” he said quietly.
A chill ran down my spine.
Careful.
The warning was gentle, but it wasn’t empty.
I stood slowly, not wanting to appear like prey rising too quickly.
“We can fix this,” he continued, tone smoothing again. “You’re scared. I understand that. Anyone would be.”
“I’m not scared,” I lied.
He gave a small smile. “Yes,” he said softly. “You are.”
He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly along my arm.
The contact felt wrong now.
Not comforting. Claiming.
“You think I’d hurt you?” he asked.
I didn’t answer, and that was answer enough.
Trevor’s expression shifted - not fury.
Wounded pride.
“I did all of this because I love you,” he said. “Because I saw what you deserved. Because I knew he couldn’t give it to you.”
“That wasn’t your decision.”
“It became mine.”
I took a step back without meaning to.
He noticed.
His eyes flicked down to my feet, then back up to my face. “That’s new,” he murmured.
My pulse spiked.
“What is?”
“You moving away from me.”
I swallowed, “Trevor…”
He moved faster this time.
Not violently.
But decisively.
His hand closed around my wrist - not tight enough to bruise, just enough to stop me.
The world narrowed.
“You’re not going anywhere tonight,” he said quietly.
“I wasn’t trying to.”
“Good.”
He held my gaze, and in that moment, I saw it fully.
He wasn’t afraid of being caught, he was afraid of losing control.
There was a difference.
He released my wrist slowly, like he was doing me a favor.
“I need to know something,” he said.
My mouth felt dry. “What?”
“Are you going to turn on me?”
The question was almost curious, like he was asking about dinner plans.
I forced my face to remain neutral. “No,” I said, voice steady.
He searched my eyes, looking for cracks, looking for betrayal.
I softened my expression deliberately. Let a little confusion bleed in. Let him see something he could interpret as shock instead of strategy. “I just needed to understand,” I said quietly. “That’s all.”
Trevor studied me for a long moment, then he nodded. “Okay."
The word was calm again.
Measured.
But the tension in the room didn’t lift.
He stepped back and finally sat down. “I need you to trust me,” he said.
The irony almost made me laugh.
Instead, I sat slowly across from him.
My body felt like glass - thin, breakable, but still intact.
“I married you,” I said softly.
His shoulders relaxed a fraction. “That’s right,” he replied.
The lie sat between us.
I didn’t trust him.
I didn’t feel safe.
And for the first time, I understood something crucial.
Trevor had planned for every scenario except one.
The moment I stopped being afraid of losing him and started being afraid of him.
He watched me carefully.
Still assessing.
Still deciding.
And I knew, deep in my bones, that whatever happened next would depend entirely on how convincing I could be.
Because the doors were locked.
And the man who loved me had just shown me exactly what that meant.