POV: Iris Hartwell
"$847,000 to Meridian Holdings. November 13th."
Iris stood in the middle of the living room with her phone extended like evidence at trial. Julian was on the couch, still in his work clothes, which meant he hadn't yet retreated to the private spaces where he maintained his distance. She'd waited for this moment, waited until evening when he was tired, when he might be less guarded, when the pretense of their arrangement might finally crack.
He looked at the phone screen. Didn't touch it.
"I can explain," he said.
"Then explain."
"Not yet."
Iris lowered the phone. "Not yet? I found proof that you paid someone to murder my husband, and your response is 'not yet'?"
Julian stood. Moved toward the window, that same window where all their difficult conversations went to die. "That's not what that payment represents."
