The overpowering smell of her vanilla perfume made my stomach churn, but I did not blink.

“Evan has lawyers, yes,” I said, my voice eerily calm.

“But I have the recordings.”

Celeste’s face shifted.

It was microscopic—a momentary twitch of the eye, a sudden parting of the lips, a sharp intake of breath.

But it was enough.

I saw the absolute terror register in her soul.