It was right there. Just sitting there. the phone wasn't locked; the screen showed the home page. Just normal apps, a background photo of Trish and Natasha at some charity event, both of them smiling those fake smiles rich people wore like armor.

She could look. Could check the messages. Could prove to herself once and for all that she was being ridiculous, that her paranoia was just grief and trauma making her see threats where there weren't any.

Or she could confirm her worst fear.

Her ...