"The same text messages, Isla, Isla! Who is that, Damian? Don't mess with me right now!"

Damian froze mid-sip of his coffee, eyes wide. For a fraction of a second, I thought I had finally broken him. Then his face shifted into that calm, infuriatingly composed mask.

"It's... nothing," he said smoothly, setting the cup down. "Just someone from work. Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it?" I repeated, voice rising. "Damian, I see the way you hide your phone. I see the way you delete ...