With a final, resounding slam of the door, Darleen was gone.
Now it was just the two of them. Fairfax turned to Starla, and his eyes fell on the faint red line on her cheek where his fingernails had scratched her. A sharp pain lanced through his chest.
He instinctively reached out, wanting to touch the mark, but Starla immediately took a step back, her body language creating an unbridgeable chasm between them. She watched him with a cold, silent detachment that made the hollowness in his chest ache even more.
“Was it really you?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. Deep down, a small part of him refused to believe it. He couldn't accept that the woman he had defied everyone to marry could be this malicious.
But if not her, who else could it be?
Starla saw the conflict warring in his eyes and said softly, “You must always trust yourself.”
Her words were a death blow to his wavering heart, plunging it into an abyss of certainty.
“You…”
“In this world, a person can doubt anyone,” she continued, each word deliberate and precise, “but they must always, always trust themselves.”
Her tone was laced with a thick, biting sarcasm, but in his turmoil, he missed it completely. His gaze hardened, turning frigid. Her statement had, in his mind, sealed her guilt. She had taken the child, and she was responsible for her death.
Fairfax squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, his expression was one of grim resolution. He pulled out his phone. “In that case,” he said, his voice flat, “don’t blame me for what comes next.”
Starla watched as he typed 9-1-1 into the keypad. So, he was finally going to do it.
Before he could press dial, her own phone vibrated with a soft 'ding'. It was a text from Garret: [Miss, I’m outside. Should I come in and get you?’

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