Page 87 of The Sweetest Revenge

"Focus," I mumbled, sipping my coffee. "What were the most important things in Kacie's life?"

Her friends.

Me.

Her family.

Her dog.

And at one point, her ex?—

Oh my God. Her ex. That would be the last password I would try.

My fingers hovered over the keys before typing: Dayton.

ACCESS DENIED flashed back.

His birthday—12/04. The screen remained locked.

His first and last name—DaytonMitchell.

Nothing.

"Shit," I groaned, slamming my palm against the table. The library's quiet amplified my frustration. Three students at a nearby table glanced over, then quickly looked away. "When did they meet? Does anyone remember exactly?"

"What?" Mila's gaze narrowed.

"Do you remember when Kacie and Dayton started dating?"

"I do," Journey said. "It was two days before my seventeenth birthday."

I typed the date into the MacBook. Wrong.

"Fuck." My last chance. My fingers trembled as I tried his initials, followed by the date: DM-05172020.

The screen paused. One second. Two. Three.

The desktop blossomed open.

"I'm in," I whispered, then louder: "I'm IN!"

Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone crowded around, their shadows falling across the screen, their breath hot on my neck.

"Where do I start?" My mouse hovered, uncertain over the sea of folders and icons that contained Kacie's digital life.

"Pictures," Mila suggested.

I moved the mouse toward the pictures folder when something caught my eye—a folder simply labeled "evidence?" My hand froze on the trackpad.

"What's that?" Mila leaned in, her finger tapping the screen.

"Only one way to find out." Zaiden's voice was steady, but his knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the table.

The folder opened, revealing dozens of subfolders. Each click revealed more photographs meticulously organized by date, screenshots of conversations, and voice recordings labeled with initials.

"Oh my God," I whispered, opening the first image file. Coach Palmer's face filled the screen, his arm around a dancer I recognized from last year's competition team. The next photo showed him with another student, their positions too intimate for comfort.

"Keep going," Sterling urged, his earlier casualness completely gone.

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