The flash drive clicked into place, and the laptop screen flared to life—blue, then white, then a single folder:
"FOR HER"
Arden's heart stuttered. Cole stood behind her, one hand resting on the back of her chair, the other gripping the armrest like he was bracing for impact.
She double-clicked.
Inside, a series of video files, each named with a single date. Some from years ago. Some recent.
Too recent.
She opened the first one.
Static.
Then the shaky frame of a handheld camera.
Jamie's voice, younger, uncertain: "If something happens to me, I need someone to see this."
Arden's hand flew to her mouth.
He looked barely sixteen. His face thinner than she remembered, his eyes hollow. The boy she loved more than life, staring back at her through time.
"They're watching me," he whispered. "It's not just school. It's not just the threats. It's Daniel. I—I think he knows what I found."
Cole tensed behind her. "Found what?"
She clicked the next video.
More static. Then images—documents laid out on a desk. Names, dates. Property transfers. Fire codes. Emergency fund withdrawals. And one name circled over and over in red:
Daniel Hart.
"He was setting up the fire before it ever happened," Jamie's voice said. "I think… I think he meant for it to burn. I think he meant for someone not to come out."
Arden felt her breath shatter.
She'd always believed Daniel was dangerous—but this was intentional. Pre-meditated. Controlled.
Cold.
The third video was different.
It was taken from across the schoolyard.
A boy in a blue jacket stood under a tree—Arden remembered that jacket. She'd bought it for Jamie herself.
Another figure approached him. Tall. Confident.
Daniel.
They spoke, and though there was no audio, the gesture was clear.
Jamie backed away.
Daniel grabbed his arm.
And Jamie flinched.
She paused the frame there. The moment before everything broke.
Cole crouched beside her. "This isn't just evidence. It's motive. Daniel was setting it up for years."
Arden swallowed hard. "And I kept loving him. Even after Jamie died, even after the trial, I kept trying to convince myself I was wrong."
Cole took her hand.
"You weren't wrong. You were surviving."
The weight of truth pressed down like thunder.
"I have to bring this forward," she said. "Even if it means reopening the case. Even if it means facing him in court again."
Cole's jaw clenched. "Then we do it together."
Arden stared at the screen. Jamie's frozen face. The evidence of betrayal and murder sitting quietly in bytes.
This wasn't just about closure anymore.
This was war.
The boy on the screen—her brother—looked so small now. Not just in stature, but in the way he held himself, shoulders hunched, eyes darting even when he was alone. The way he kept looking over his shoulder.
Like he already knew he wouldn't live to grow old.
Arden couldn't move. Her throat ached, thick with unshed grief.
Cole crouched beside her, one hand still wrapped around hers. She didn't realize she was shaking until he anchored her.
"I failed him," she whispered.
"No," Cole said softly. "You didn't have what you have now."
"But I had instinct. I knew something was wrong. I just didn't listen to it."
"You were trying to believe in love," he said. "You were trying to believe Daniel wasn't a monster."
She blinked fast. "He was so careful. So charming. He made me feel like I was losing my mind when I questioned him."
Cole's voice went cold. "That's what they do. Make you trust them, then gut the truth out of you."
The next file was an audio recording—dated only two weeks before the fire.
Jamie's voice was hushed, like he was hiding in a closet or a stairwell.
> "He keeps talking about 'clearing the way.' He says it's the only way she'll see him again. I don't know what he means, but I don't like how he says it. He thinks I don't understand. But I do. He's going to do something. And it's going to be big."
Arden pressed pause. "He meant me. 'She.' Daniel was doing it for me."
"No," Cole said. "He was doing it to own you."
Arden nodded slowly.
But her voice was steel when she stood. "We go to the police. Tomorrow."
Cole rose too, watching her. "You're sure?"
"No," she said. "But I'm ready."
She turned to shut the laptop—but the screen flickered again. A new file appeared.
Not from Jamie.
From Daniel.
A video labeled: "In case she digs too deep."
Her stomach turned.
She opened it.
Daniel sat in a clean, windowless room, dressed in black, hands folded. Calm. Composed.
He looked straight into the camera.
> "Hello, Arden. I see curiosity still wins over caution."
> "You've seen the flash drive. And I'm sure you're planning something noble. Heroic, even."
> "But let me ask you this—are you prepared for what else Jamie did?"
> "Are you prepared to know he wasn't innocent either?"
The video cut off.
Arden stared, a scream clawing inside her chest.
"No," she whispered. "No, don't you dare twist him. Don't you dare."
But Cole's hand tightened on her shoulder. "He's baiting you. He's trying to confuse you."
"Or warning me," Arden said, breath shivering.
She didn't know which was worse.
But she knew one thing for certain.
Daniel wasn't just a villain in her past.
He was the architect of her future.
And he wasn't finished building.
She couldn't breathe.
The screen had gone black, Daniel's last words still echoing:
Are you prepared to know he wasn't innocent either?
"Lies," Arden said aloud, as if the word could anchor her.
But the truth was heavier than ever, and her heart thudded with a panic she hadn't known in years. Cole turned the laptop screen away, his jaw tight.
"You don't have to watch any more of his poison."
"I do," she whispered. "If I want to survive him, I have to understand him."
Cole was quiet a moment, then said, "Then we do it together."
Arden took a breath, reached for the mouse, and clicked the next video Daniel left.
It wasn't him on the screen.
It was Jamie—again. But older. Maybe a month before the fire.
He was pacing, rubbing his arms. The camera caught only part of his face. His voice was hollow.
> "I never meant for it to go that far. I just wanted her to see. I thought if I could scare her, she'd leave him…"
> "But now he knows. And he's not backing down."
Arden's fingers went numb.
Jamie's eyes—so filled with dread—finally lifted to the lens.
> "I set the first fire. The one at the storage yard. I didn't hurt anyone. I just wanted it to look like Daniel was dangerous. I didn't think he'd—God, I didn't think he'd do it for real."
Arden recoiled.
"No. No, that's not who he was."
Cole's brow furrowed. "He was scared. Manipulated. Trying to protect you."
"But he lied to me," she said, her voice cracking. "Even in death, he lied."
She stood, paced, the edges of the room pressing in. Her whole life—her grief, her fury—had been built on the idea that Jamie was the victim and Daniel was the monster.
Now?
They were both architects of a fire that changed her forever.
Cole moved to her side, resting his hand on her back. "Arden—what Jamie did doesn't change what Daniel became. This doesn't clear him. It complicates it."
"I need air," she murmured.
She stepped outside onto the porch, cool night wind rushing to meet her. The sky overhead churned with clouds, low and restless.
Her fingers fumbled at her locket—Jamie's locket, the last thing he gave her before the fire.
She opened it.
And found something she hadn't noticed before.
A folded slip of paper, tiny, tucked behind the photo.
She unfolded it with trembling hands.
> "If I don't make it out—don't trust the lawyer. He's not who he says he is. He works for D.H."
Lawyer?
She blinked, trying to remember. There'd been a man, years ago, who had handled the case after Jamie died—smiling, sympathetic, too polished.
Daniel Hart.
He'd paid him.
And maybe… more.
She turned back toward the door, storm rising behind her eyes.
"Cole," she called. "We need to dig deeper. Into the fire, into the court records. Into everything."
Because Jamie had secrets.
But Daniel had rewritten the whole damn story.
And Arden was done reading the version he gave her.