Joanna glared at me, resentment etched deep in every line of her face.
"You drugged me that night, Asher. There's no doubt."
I didn't bother explaining. The world had already convicted me. In everyone's eyes, I was the predator who drugged the heiress, forced himself on her, and trapped her with a pregnancy. The Fox family wanted my head, but to save face, they forced Joanna to marry me instead.
The truth? Nobody cared. Joanna certainly didn't. Her hatred for me—and the child—had never unraveled. That hatred was precisely why, in my previous life, I'd ended up plummeting from a rooftop.
Minutes later, an assistant burst in, winded, clutching a thick stack of documents. "Ma'am, the archives. I pulled everything."
Matthew's face drained of color.
Joanna snatched the folder, tearing through pages with frantic intensity. The furrow in her brow deepened. Then she froze. Her gaze snapped to Matthew, confusion clouding her eyes.
"Matt? The police report places you at the hotel before us. Surveillance confirmed it." Her voice trembled. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"
Matthew's jaw clenched, his mind visibly racing. "I was worried about you, Joanna. I went to check on you. I kept it secret because... I couldn't bear making you relive that night."
Joanna fell silent.
She flipped another page, her finger landing on a medical report. "But according to the toxicology screening, Asher was admitted with the same substance in his system. He was a victim too." She looked up, suspicion creeping into her tone. "And your arrival time predates ours..."
Matthew flushed a deep, guilty crimson.
"It's fake! It has to be fake!" he blurted, panic rising. "Don't you see? Asher told the police he was drugged to cover his tracks! He staged it to escape suspicion!"
Excuses spilled from him like water from a cracked dam.
Surprisingly, it worked. Joanna's suspicion flickered and died. Years of dependency on Matthew, his carefully cultivated "savior" image, outweighed the cold facts on paper. She suppressed her doubts and turned her fury back on me.
"Asher Farley, these records prove nothing! For all I know, you colluded with someone to set this up!"
I watched them, unimpressed. They played off each other perfectly—the manipulator and the willing victim. Matthew had a talent for twisting reality, painting black as white. Impressive, in a pathetic sort of way. No wonder he'd framed me so effectively before.
A vicious glint entered Matthew's eyes. He realized the files were dangerous ground. He needed to shift the battlefield.
He sneered. "Asher, Joanna moved on a long time ago. You're the one dragging up old wounds. But fine—if you claim to care about this child so much, prove it."
He stepped closer, his voice dripping with false reason. "Accept a challenge. Pass, and you prove you're capable of protecting the kid. We won't make things difficult anymore."
I watched his eyes dart around, calculating. He thought he had me cornered.
Perfect.
He'd walked right into my crosshairs. Joanna wouldn't believe me without action, and Matthew needed me gone. From the moment I stepped into this room, I'd controlled the board.
Now the real show could begin.
"Fine," I said coldly. "I agree."
