Mercy.
She stood up when he walked through the door. He looked destroyed. Now her triumph refused to taste sweet.
"So, did you come by to gloat, Harlee? Can't wait to grind me into dust? or does this excite you?", his voice rose and fell as he walked to the bedroom and leaned on the wall.
"You sent me the key, Robert", she said softly and ran a hand through her hair.
"Yeah, for when you are falling apart, not me. So, either come here or get the hell out."
"No conversation?"
"What conversation? A first in 3 months? Astonishing timing... Now listen. I've let you be extremely lucky", he breathed forcefully out. "Don't look so surprised. Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out? Miguel did not leave. But you already knew that, didn't you? Tell me".
The words wouldn't come. God damn it. She backed up.
"Right", he advanced. "I could have enjoyed making you squirm and beg me not to inform Christina. But did I?"
What the hell? Her head is exploding, fear making her numb. She remembers the dirt on her fingers that night, in her hair, her face...Dread crawls up her skin and she hugs herself, tears burning behind her eyes. But she holds them back. She is not weak. Instead, she touches his warm hand and uncurls his fingers. Hers are freezing. An envelope lands. "Read it tomorrow", and she barely asks.