Zoe's POV
Brandon didn't display any trace of shock, which was precisely what I wished he would have done. A look of shock would have meant confusion, innocence, surprise—anything other than the unsettling calm that washed over his features the instant I held up the photograph between us. His eyes remained steady, unblinking, devoid of the surprise I had anticipated. Instead, he looked at the picture as though it were a ghost that had haunted him for years, as though its existence was something he had long accepted.
And in that moment, something inside me began to unravel, like a tightly wound string coming loose. For a fleeting second, I attempted to convince myself I was misreading his expression. Surely, I was projecting my own fears onto him, fueled by the venomous words I'd overheard echoing from downstairs. Margaret's voice, sharp as a blade, reverberated in my mind: Your taste in women.
