Page 59 of The Secrets of a Sin

“Arsen, let him go.” Charlotte begs, but I disregard her.

“We found the little fucking love letters you two sent back and forth to each other. And I know she was trying to break things off with you, but you didn’t seem too keen on the idea.”

“She was everything to me, my whole fucking world, even though I knew we were doomed from the very beginning.” His eyes drop as if in pain, but he peers back up. “Yes, she broke my heart, but I would never, ever lay a finger on Phoebe like that.”

I didn’t want to believe him, and I wasn’t going to. The letter said it all and more. He couldn’t stand the idea of her not being with him, so he took what he couldn’t have any longer from us. “You’d just slit her throat, right?”

His eyes bulged as more tears streamed down his cheeks. “I was in the process of divorcing my wife. Even if Phoebe wasn’t going to be with me, my wife’s and I’s marriage was over. I tried telling Phoebe that I’d leave the school and start a life with her, but I could tell something was off with her.” His eyes drift off into space. “Almost like she was forcing herself to get rid of me.”

“Or she realized just how messed up it was to be in a relationship with her teacher.” I shake his collar, tightening my grip on the fabric until my nail beds begin to ache.

“I saw her upset and crying in the hallway the day before she died.” Charlotte interrupts from behind me, causing both of our heads to swivel and focus on her. I immediately scowl, hoping she comprehends that I don’t want her speaking to this sick fuck, but instead, she continues. “She was holding the necklace I’m assuming you gave her.” She takes a hesitant step forward which has me tensing.

“That was the day I told her I was leaving my wife.” He meets Charlotte’s eyes, and I hold back from pounding the fucker’s face in.

“Why would she be crying then? And holding onto the necklace you gave her if she truly didn’t want to be with you anymore?” She questions.

Why the fuck was she questioning Phoebe’s actions?

He was the killer. The murderer. End of discussion.

“That’s because she wanted to be with me.” He admits. “But something was holding her back. Something was forcing her to avoid me.”

“Or someone.” Charlotte mumbles on a low breath that has me dropping his shirt and spinning in her direction.

“Are you seriously siding with him?” I growl as my hands begin to scorch with the need to subdue her, to cover her mouth from speaking any further before I really lose it.

“Arsen…” She pleads with those spellbinding eyes. “I’m on your side, always.” She offers reassurance, but it does nothing to soothe the betrayal. “But I don’t think he killed her. When I saw her that night, she was so damn upset. She was clinging to that necklace because she knew it was her only way to him. The only thing she had left of him.”

“I loved your sister, Arsen. As wrong and immoral as my actions were, I would have done anything for Phoebe. In life and death.” He confesses as I continue to watch Charlotte.

“Just the fuck up for a second!” I shout, feeling overwhelmed with emotions and confusion. Nothing is making sense anymore.

Was he being truthful? Was there really more to her death than I originally thought?

Who else would have a motive to kill Phoebe?

“Then how do you explain the girl who just accused you of touching her?” I twirl and glare into the circles of his eyes, waiting for him to refute. “How the fuck do you explain that?”

“I didn’t touch that girl.” He spits as if my accusation disgusts him. “She somehow knew about Phoebe and me. She told me that if I didn’t admit to supposedly coming onto her, that she’d tell everyone about Phoebe and I’s relationship.”

“Priscilla knew?” Charlotte asks on a gasp. “How?”

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head back and forth. “But she threatened me with my career, my children, my whole goddamn life. Then when I didn’t agree to her terms, she attacked me.”

Who the fuck is Priscilla? And why am I just now hearing her name now?

“Regardless, if I would have admitted it or not, I was going to be fired.” He runs his palm down his face.

“Why would she do that?” Charlotte questions herself more than him, which has me tensing.

“Because she’s fucking crazy.” He growls. “Along with those two other friends of hers.”

Charlotte instantly freezes. Full-on stiffens, and I find myself hurrying towards her and placing my palm onto her cheek.

“Why would you say that?” She questions not in a defensive way but in a curious one.

“You of all people should know the kinds of characters that walk through the halls of St. Catherine’s. They might not all be unstable, but those three are another breed of wicked.” He warns. “They appear innocent and friendly, but trust me, nothing good comes from those girls.”

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