In her living room, the investigator laid out the photos and papers. “Take a look,” he said, his voice a low whisper. Matilda scanned the evidence, a sly smile creeping across her face. “Oh, this will do nicely,” she murmured, feeling the thrill of vindication.
Each photo was a reminder of Vincent’s betrayal but her hurt was now replaced by anger. She traced a finger over one image, her smile widening. “You’ve really done it now, Vincent,” she whispered to herself, a spark of vengeful delight flickering in her eyes.