"You didn't want me to get dragged down by Miles, or harassed by your mother, so you purposely pushed me away and used Julian as a shield."
He tapped his fingers rhythmically against the steering wheel.
"Gwen yelling at me to 'use my brain'—she was trying to hint that you were putting on an act!"
The more he thought about it, the more it made perfect sense. The logic was flawless.
As for Yvonne—
Zander's smile faltered for a second.
Yvonne.
And the baby in her stomach.
His fingers stalled on the steering wheel.
That night had truly been an accident. He had been drugged. He was the victim in all of this. Eliza was a reasonable woman; she would definitely understand once she knew the truth. As long as he clearly explained what happened—how Yvonne had spiked his milk, how he was completely unaware, how his entire mind had been a blur the whole time—
There was no way Eliza wouldn't forgive him.
After all, it wasn't his fault.
He pulled out of the alley and merged onto the main road. The streetlights flashed past him in a blur. His eyes were locked dead ahead, the rush of adrenaline still coursing through his veins.
"I'll just wait until the day we get the divorce papers," he schemed under his breath. "I'll use that opportunity to lay everything out on the table. Yvonne was a mistake, and I swear I'll never involve myself in Miles's messes again. Even if she goes through with the divorce, fine! Once it's done, I'll just win her back! I'll court her all over again! I won't stop until she says yes!"
He slammed his foot on the gas, the car surging forward into the night.
Zander's face was a mask of absolute, self-deluded conviction.
He was completely unaware—
In those brief two seconds before the passenger door had clicked shut, Julian's left hand, resting casually on the steering wheel, had gently brushed against Eliza's hand resting on her lap.
A fleeting, feather-light touch.


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