Rosa was in the bathroom, wiping the sink. She paused, reached into her pocket, and discreetly placed something small behind the faucet. Clara didn’t need to see more. She knew what it was—just another object enough to start a fight. Her fingers curled into fists.
“She made me think I was losing it,” Clara said, voice barely above a whisper. “That you were cheating. That I couldn’t trust myself.” Marc’s expression darkened. “We’re taking this to the police. Right now.” Clara nodded, chest tight. “There’s no telling how far she’s done this before.”