Indisputably Yours

60.

I stumbled back a step, my heart tightening as the remnants of my nightmare surged forward, wrapping around me like a vice.

"How?" Stefan asked, but Tristan's gaze was fixed on me, intense and unwavering. "Leave us, Stefan." He spoke without looking at him. "I need to talk to my wife," his voice was firm and devoid of any warmth. It sent a sickening chill down my spine.

Stefan didn't move immediately. His eyes flicked to me, searching my face, and I shook my head quickly. "No, Stefan," I said, my voice stronger than I felt. "Don't go."

"Stefan," Tristan warned, finally locking eyes with him. For a moment, the two men engaged in a silent standoff. Stefan's jaw tensed, his hand flexing as if he wanted to stay, but then he rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled. "I think," he said slowly, "I left something in the car."

"Stefan—" I started, a note of desperation slipping into my voice.

He met my gaze and gave me a small, reassuring smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Don't worry," he said softly. "I'll be right back." With that, he turned and slipped out, shutting the door gently behind him.

The quiet click of the door felt like the sound of a guillotine blade dropping, and suddenly the small room seemed to shrink, walls pressing closer. I clutched the edges of my robe, wrapping it tighter around myself, hoping it might serve as some sort of armor against the man standing in front of me.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, my voice shaking despite my best efforts. I hated how vulnerable I sounded, how my words trembled. "And how did you find me?"

He didn't answer right away, just stood there, letting the suspense mount, suffocating us both. The tension radiating from him was so intense it felt like a living thing. Finally, he broke the silence. "I called you."

I lifted my chin, forcing myself not to cower. "I'm aware."

"You didn't answer."

"You're still not answering my question," I shot back. "How did you find me? Did you have me followed?" The idea of it sent a fresh wave of unease through me.

"I had Stefan followed," he admitted. "Figured if anyone knew where you were, it would be him."

His tone suggested he didn't like the idea of me confiding in Stefan. I clenched my fists at my sides. "You had no right."

"I was worried."

My laugh was bitter. "That's a first."

"I just— I needed to find you, okay."

"Why?" I spat. "What could be so important that you tracked me down like this?"

He took a step closer, and I instinctively took one back, hitting the edge of a small table behind me.

He paused. "Come home," he said, his voice softening, but it only made the hurt cut deeper. "We need to talk."

"I'm not going back there." I bit out.

He looked like he wanted to argue, but then he sighed, running a hand through his hair, a gesture so familiar it hurt to see. "Fine," he muttered, "then we'll talk here."

"You have two minutes."

He reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a crumpled brown envelope. My stomach dropped at the sight of it and my first instinct was to turn and run as it felt like I was about to relive my nightmare again.

Tristan's expression was unreadable as he reached into the envelope. My breath caught in my throat, expecting to see a stack of photos but he pulled out a single sheet of paper instead and handed it to me.