Wife Reads Husband's Chats and Finds Something Shocking There — Story of the Day

When Miley discovers evidence of her husband's infidelity, she lays a trap for his mistress by inviting her to come over. To her surprise, the woman who appears on her doorstep is someone close to her. Trust is tested as tensions rise and loyalty becomes a dangerous game.

Miley's heart raced as she lifted her husband, Dave's, phone from the hall table. She'd noticed him, more often than not, lost in whatever world existed inside that screen, a smile playing on his lips reserved not for her but for someone else. She had to know if her suspicions that he was cheating were true.

As she glanced at the lock screen, she considered how Dave's behavior had shifted recently. The late nights, the secretive smiles. It was enough to drive her to this moment of desperation. Before she could attempt to guess his PIN, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway, growing louder.

"What the hell are you doing with my phone?" Dave's voice, sharp and accusing, sliced through the tension in the room.

Miley spun around, her heart skipping a beat. With an attempt at innocence, she lifted the dusting cloth she had grabbed in a panic.

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"I was just cleaning, Dave," Miley said in a shaky voice. "I saw your phone was out, and I thought—"

"But I wasn't—"

"No!" He cut her off, stepping closer. "This is about trust, Miley. You're breaking it by even thinking of looking through my phone. What is it with you being so nosy lately? Are you projecting something? Hiding something maybe?" His eyes narrowed, searching hers for a sign of deceit.

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In a desperate bid to show her openness, Miley extended her phone towards him. "Here, you can go through my phone if it makes you feel better. I have nothing to hide."

Dave pushed her hand away, shaking his head. "No, Miley. I will not stoop to your level. I respect your privacy, and I expect the same from you. Promise me you'll never go through my phone again."

Miley was taken aback by the intensity of his reaction. She could feel a cold shiver run down her spine as she nodded, murmuring a quick agreement. "I promise, Dave. It won't happen again."

Without another word, Dave turned on his heel and made his way to the bathroom, leaving Miley alone with her tumultuous thoughts. As soon as the sound of running water filled the house, Miley's resolve crumbled. Driven by a mix of fear, suspicion, and a desperate need for the truth, she found herself moving back towards the table.

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Miley's hands trembled as she reached for Dave's phone again, her heart pounding against her ribcage. The trust between them felt as fragile as the silence of the house, broken only by the distant sound of the shower. With a deep breath, Miley steeled herself for what she might find, the weight of her actions heavy on her conscience.

Her mind raced as she faced the PIN prompt on Dave's phone, dismissing the possibility of birthdays or anniversaries as the code. Dave was never that predictable. Her eyes darted to the lock screen image, displaying the sleek lines of the Dodge Charger he treated more tenderly than anything else in his life. On a hunch, she typed in the license plate number. The phone unlocked.

An image of a woman's chest clad in a lacy red bra was glaring back at her, a stark betrayal that echoed in the hollow of her chest. This was no message from a boss; this was personal, intimate, and utterly devastating.

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Miley's hands trembled as she stared at the image, the reality of Dave's infidelity sinking in. She had suspected, doubted, and hoped she was wrong, but the truth was now in her hands, undeniable and cruel. Her suspicions were confirmed, leaving her feeling like the floor had been yanked from beneath her feet.

"How could you, Dave?" she whispered to herself, a mixture of disbelief and sorrow lacing her voice. The trust and love she had for Dave, the foundation of their life together, felt shattered beyond repair.

As the sound of the shower ceased, Miley was jolted from her stupor of disbelief. The evidence of Dave's infidelity lay not in explicit messages for her to find, but rather in a trail of unexplained calls and the void left by deleted messages. Her heart raced as a plan began to form in her mind.

Just then, 'Boss George' appeared online. Without a second thought, Miley's fingers flew over the screen, typing a message that could change everything: 'My place at 2 p.m.'

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Her breath caught in her throat as she sent the message, the audacity of her actions surprising even herself. She waited, heart pounding, as the sound of Dave moving in the bathroom added to the tension in the air.

With no time to dwell on her actions, Miley hurried to the dining table and began to clean, her movements mechanical. She was lost in thought, trying to anticipate the outcomes of her gamble, when Dave entered the room. She forced her face into a mask of innocence, as if the last few minutes had been nothing but a normal day in their life.

Dave grabbed his phone and moved past her to sit on the sofa. Miley watched him for a moment, her heart heavy with the secret she now carried. She knew the events of today would inevitably lead to a confrontation that could end their relationship as they knew it. Yet, she clung to the hope that maybe she was wrong about everything.

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The tension in the air was thick, yet the living room of Dave and Miley's home felt eerily normal as they settled in to watch TV together at 2 p.m. Dave, seeming to sense the lingering discomfort, shifted closer to Miley. He draped his arm around her, his touch gentle and familiar.

"Hey, about earlier... I'm sorry I snapped at you about the phone," Dave began, his voice soft, carrying a sincerity that made Miley turn to face him. "I just really value my privacy, you know? But it doesn't mean I love you any less. I love you, Miley. Sincerely and deeply."

Miley managed a smile, her heart twisting with the complexity of her emotions. "I understand, Dave. And I love you too," she said, though her mind raced with doubt and apprehension.

As she glanced at the clock, noting that it was already a few minutes past 2, the seeds of doubt began to sprout. Was the message she sent as 'Boss George' going to prove her suspicions, or had she made a colossal mistake? The sound of the doorbell abruptly interrupted her thoughts.

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"I'll get it," Miley announced quickly. She leaped from the sofa and made her way to the door, her heart pounding with every step. She was about to find out the identity of Dave's mistress.

"Hey, Miley! I got done with my Saturday catch-up work for that big court case next week a bit early, so I thought I'd drop by." Veronica stepped into the house, her eyes scanning the familiar surroundings before settling on Miley. "Sorry I didn't give you a heads-up. My phone died on the way here."

The casualness of her visit stood in stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside Miley. Without missing a beat, Miley dove into the question that had been burning inside her since the moment she opened the door.

"Veronica, how long have you and Dave been together?" The words tumbled out, sharp and accusatory.

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Veronica's eyebrows shot up in confusion. "What are you talking about, Miley?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

But before the conversation could go any further, another knock at the door cut through the tension. Miley hurried to answer it, finding her sister Emma on the doorstep, surprise clear on her face.

"I didn't expect to find you at home, Miley. I... uh, texted Dave since I thought you were out," Emma said, avoiding Miley's gaze.

At this moment, Dave joined them in the hallway, his expression brightening at the sight of Emma.

"Hey, Emma!" he greeted her warmly, pulling her into a hug. Turning to Miley and Veronica, he added, "I didn't realize we were having guests today."

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"We weren't expecting anyone," Miley replied, her voice tight. "But since everyone's here, we might as well have lunch together."

Emma's reluctance was obvious as she hesitated. "I don't know if that's a good idea," she started, but Miley cut her off.

"No, it's settled. Let's have lunch," Miley insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument.

But Emma was her sister. Although Miley tended to be more reserved, Emma was vivacious and freely affectionate. During their teens, Emma's easy popularity with boys and girls alike had sparked resentment in Miley, but they'd long resolved those issues.

She let out a deep sigh as she decided the hug and Dave's hand on Emma's hip were not out of character for either of them. Dave and Emma had always gotten along well… it didn't mean Emma was Dave's mistress, did it? The uncertainty was maddening, but Miley was determined to uncover the truth, whatever it may be.

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As they gathered around the dining table, a veneer of normalcy cloaked the room. Dave recounted a humorous incident from work, eliciting laughter from Veronica and a forced smile from Miley. Emma chimed in with anecdotes of her own, yet Miley's attention was elsewhere. Her eyes darted from Dave to Veronica to Emma, searching their interactions for any hint of deceit, any sign that could confirm her worst fears.

Amidst the light-hearted banter, Miley saw her opening. "Emma, why did you want to meet Dave today?" she interjected, her question slicing through the conversation like a sharp blade.

Emma was clearly caught off guard and stumbled over her words. "Oh, it's not what you think, Miley. I think you might have misunderstood—"

Miley wasn't satisfied. She turned her gaze to Dave, seeking the truth. "Dave, what was it about?"

Emma's eyes widened in panic as she turned to Dave. "Please, don't tell her," she pleaded. "I'm begging you."

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Despite Emma's plea, Dave relented. "Okay, okay," he sighed, "Emma wanted to borrow some of your serving dishes. She knows they're your favorites, and she didn't want to ask you directly because she knew you'd say no."

Miley frowned in confusion. "Serving dishes?" she echoed, a mix of disbelief and relief washing over her. The tension she had been carrying began to dissolve, replaced by a sense of absurdity over the situation.

Emma nodded, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm really sorry, Miley. I just wanted everything to be perfect for my dinner party. I know how much you love those dishes."

The moment Veronica pulled out her phone to display the pictures, Miley's skepticism surged.

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"I thought your phone was dead," Miley interjected, unable to mask the suspicion in her voice.

Veronica, caught in the inconsistency, offered a dismissive wave of her hand. "It came back on. Must've been a glitch or something," she explained nonchalantly, focusing on scrolling through her gallery to find the images of her new serving dishes.

Miley's mind raced. This slip-up, however minor, seemed to her like a glaring red flag. The ease with which Veronica brushed off the lie only added to Miley's growing conviction that there was more to the story than mere coincidence.

The seeds of doubt found fertile ground in her troubled thoughts, and she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Veronica's lie pointed to a deeper, more painful truth.

Turning to Emma, Miley made a swift decision. "You can borrow my dishes, Emma. Let's go pick them out in the kitchen," she said, her voice steady but her mind in turmoil.

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Emma's eyes lit up with surprise and gratitude. "Really? That's so generous of you, Miley. You know, you don't even lend those dishes to Mom," she remarked, following Miley into the sanctuary of the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, Emma noticed Miley's distant gaze and growing unease. "Hey, are you okay? You seem off today," Emma inquired, her concern clear.

Miley hesitated, but the weight of her suspicions was too much to bear alone. She turned to Emma, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's Dave. I think he's cheating on me… with Veronica," she confided, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.

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Emma's expression was one of utter disbelief as Miley poured out the sequence of events that had led them to this moment. The revelation of the chat on Dave's phone, the calculated message to 'Boss George,' and the peculiar timing of Veronica's unexpected visit—it was a lot to take in.

"And then, Veronica's phone, which was supposedly dead, suddenly works? It's really suspicious, Em… why would she lie about something like that?" Miley's voice was tight, her gaze drifting to where Veronica and Dave sat, their laughter a stark contrast to the storm brewing just a room away.

Emma, still trying to process the information, sighed deeply. "Miley, this is serious. Are you sure about this? A chat could mean anything, and guys send each other pictures like that all the time. To accuse Veronica of something like this—she's been your friend forever."

Miley's resolve didn't waver. "I saw the message, Emma. 'Boss George' is clearly a fake name, the lie she told about her phone, and her showing up at the right time? It's too much to be a coincidence." She glanced back at the table, her eyes narrowing as she saw Veronica's hand linger on Dave's arm. "We have to expose what's going on here."

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Emma shook her head, her voice laced with caution. "But what if you're wrong? Accusing someone of cheating is huge, Miley. And what about your friendship with Veronica? You could ruin it over a misunderstanding."

"Miley, Veronica has been by your side since you were kids, and I—I'm your sister. We love you. You must believe me that neither of us would ever want to hurt you." Emma whispered.

The sincerity in Emma's plea reached Miley, soothing the edges of her frayed nerves. She managed a small, albeit strained, smile.

"Yes, I believe you," Miley whispered, the words feeling hollow as her mind raced with suspicion and fear.

"Good," Emma said with a nod, moving to retrieve the serving dishes from the lower cupboard. As she bent down, the neckline of her dress shifted slightly, revealing the unmistakable decorative elements of her lacy bra—the same bra Miley had seen in the photo on Dave's phone.

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Time seemed to slow as Emma straightened up, the serving dishes in her arms, oblivious to the storm of emotions her simple action had unleashed in Miley. Miley's heart sank, a sense of betrayal cutting through her as she pieced together the unbearable truth. She'd been wrong about Veronica. Her sister, her confidant, was the person entangled in this sordid affair with Dave!

With the dishes in hand, Emma walked back into the dining room, her movements betraying none of the turmoil she had just ignited. Miley, rooted to the spot in the kitchen, felt as if the ground had shifted beneath her feet. The betrayal by Dave was one thing, but by Emma, it was a wound so deep it threatened to consume her whole.

All Emma's assurances from a few minutes ago were just lies, a way for her to get Miley to doubt herself. Miley clenched her jaw as she thought of all the times she'd liked a boy when they were in high school, only to discover at some later point that he'd asked Emma out. It had caused deep bitterness between the sisters and to discover that Emma was up to her old tricks, with Miley's husband… it was a transgression Miley couldn't let fly.

Summoning every ounce of strength she possessed, Miley followed Emma into the dining room. Her gaze was fixed on her sister, who seemed to shrink under the intensity of Miley's stare, avoiding her eyes.

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The room fell into a hushed silence as Miley's voice, barely above a whisper but laden with a world of hurt, broke the stillness. "I hate you."

The words hung in the air, a testament to the shattered trust and love that lay in ruins around them. The dining room, once filled with the sounds of casual conversation and laughter, fell into a stunned silence. Everyone's eyes were on Miley, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief.

"Why? What did I do?" Emma's voice trembled, her confusion genuine as she searched Miley's face for an explanation.

Emma's shock quickly morphed into indignation.

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"You can't be serious, Miley. And here I thought I was the only one in our family capable of saying stupid things," she retorted, her attempt at defusing the situation with humor falling flat.

Rising from her seat, Emma announced her intention to leave, the atmosphere too charged for her to remain. But Miley was not about to let the moment pass.

"No one is leaving!" she shouted, her voice echoing with authority and desperation. "Sit down, Emma."

Dave, caught in the middle of the storm, finally found his voice. "Miley, how could you even think that I—"

His protest was cut short as Miley snatched up his phone. Despite his attempts to intervene, she swiftly unlocked it and navigated to the damning evidence.

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With the phone in her hand, Miley turned it towards Emma, Dave, and Veronica, displaying the photo of the woman's chest adorned with the lacy bra.

"Here is the evidence! And you, Emma," Miley's voice cracked, "you're wearing the exact same bra."

Dave's defense was swift, his voice rising with incredulity. "How did you even get into my phone? And why were you going through it?" he demanded, his posture rigid with defensiveness.

Miley, fueled by betrayal and hurt, shot back, "Because you've been acting off for weeks! And now I know why—you and Emma!" Her accusation hung heavy between them, a tangible marker of the chasm that had opened up in their relationship.

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Emma, struggling to maintain her composure, interjected, "Miley, this is insane. This bra? I got it from an online store. It's a common design. It proves nothing. This is just a horrible coincidence."

Undeterred, Miley was determined to unveil the truth. "Fine, let's prove it then!" she snapped. Turning to Emma, she commanded, "Take out your phone. I'm calling 'Boss George' from Dave's phone right now. If your phone rings, it'll confirm everything."

Dave, now standing, his frustration boiling over, pleaded with Miley to reconsider her actions. "Miley, please, stop this madness. You're acting crazy. I'm not cheating on you!"

But Miley, pushed beyond her breaking point, reacted impulsively. In a moment of intense emotion, she shoved Dave with all her might. His balance lost, Dave stumbled backward, his foot catching on a chair.

In a horrifying, slow-motion cascade, he crashed through the nearby window, the sound of shattering glass punctuating the chaos of the moment.

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Silence descended upon the room, the gravity of what had just occurred settling over everyone like a thick fog. Dave's fall, the consequence of a confrontation gone terribly wrong, left Miley, Emma, and Veronica frozen, their breaths caught in their throats as the reality of the situation dawned on them.

But Miley, trapped in a spiral of accusation and desperation, wasn't ready to let go. "No! Sit down, both of you!" she screamed, her voice cracking under the strain. "We're going to settle this once and for all. We're going to prove Emma's involved!"

With trembling hands, Miley pressed the call button for 'boss George.' Silence enveloped the room, a stark contrast to the chaos of moments before, as they waited for the damning evidence to reveal itself. Yet, neither Emma's nor Veronica's phones made a sound. No ringtone echoed; no vibration disturbed the heavy air.

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The realization of her grave mistake hit Miley like a physical blow. She looked out the window at Dave, her heart shattering under the weight of her actions.

"Oh, Dave, I'm so sorry," she whispered through tears, her voice barely audible.

Veronica, her shock giving way to action, dialed the emergency services, her voice steady as she relayed the urgency of their situation. Miley, meanwhile, rushed outside, her apologies spilling out in a desperate litany as she knelt beside Dave, mindless of the shattered pieces of glass she knelt on, begging for his forgiveness, for a sign that he understood she hadn't meant for any of this to happen.

Then, from Dave's phone, still clutched in Miley's hand, came the voice of a woman. "You shouldn't be so impatient, baby. I'm just a bit late, but I'm here now for our afternoon delight. Let me in, will you?"

Miley, Emma, and Veronica exchanged glances. Disbelief rooted them to the spot for a few moments, but they all turned as one when the doorbell rang out twice in quick succession. Miley rose to answer the door, Veronica and Emma on her heels.

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The atmosphere was thick with tension as Emma, Veronica, and Miley stood at the threshold of a revelation that none of them could have fully anticipated. The arrival of Dave's mistress, a stranger with a blonde mane, momentarily united them in shared apprehension.

"Oh, hey…." the woman's eyes flickered between the three women who'd answered the door. "I must have the wrong house. If you'll excuse me…"

Her attempt to retreat was swiftly halted as Miley lunged forward and snatched her wrist, her desperation for answers overpowering her usual restraint.

The woman, caught in the act, attempted to feign ignorance. "I think you have me confused with someone else. Like I said, I got the wrong house," she stammered, her eyes darting for an escape.

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But Miley wasn't to be dissuaded. With Dave's phone still in her possession, she dialed 'Boss George' once more. The distinct melody of a ringing phone emanating from the woman's handbag shattered the tense silence that followed.

The undeniable proof hung in the air, a damning indictment of the woman's lies. She hesitated, then reached into her bag with a resigned sigh, pulling out the ringing phone. The facade of innocence she had tried to maintain crumbled under the weight of undeniable evidence.

"I had no idea he was married," the blonde woman insisted, her voice laced with panic. "Please, I don't want any trouble. I swear, I'll never contact Dave again."

With a desperate gesture, she presented her phone to Miley, fingers trembling as she navigated to Dave's contact information and deleted it before their eyes. "See? He's gone. I promise, you won't hear from me again."

Miley, though seething with betrayal and anger, hesitated. The urge to lash out, to punish the woman before her was strong, yet something held her back—a realization, perhaps, that the true betrayal lay not with this stranger but with Dave himself.

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It was Veronica who took charge of the situation, her voice steady and imbued with the authority of her legal profession.

"Listen carefully," she addressed the mistress, her gaze unwavering. "I'm a lawyer, and you're in a precarious position. If I were you, I'd make certain to forget Dave ever existed. Because if you don't, and you try to make this difficult, I will personally ensure you regret it when I help Miley take everything from him in the divorce."

"Okay, okay, I understand. I'm sorry," she murmured before turning on her heel and disappearing into the evening, a ghost of the complication she had represented in their lives.

As the door closed behind the mistress, a heavy silence fell over Miley, Veronica, and Emma. The confrontation had ended, but the echoes of its revelations would linger, reshaping their relationships and futures in ways none of them could yet fully comprehend.

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Miley stood, her gaze fixed on her friend. "Why did you let her go, Veronica?" she demanded, her voice quivering with a mix of anger and disbelief. "She's part of all this mess!"

Veronica turned to her, urgency etched into her features. "Miley, trust me, it's better for us legally if she's not here when the ambulance and police arrive. We need to minimize the complications. Right now, our priority is Dave and how we handle this situation," she explained, her tone firm yet empathetic.

Before Miley could process Veronica's reasoning fully, they heard the distant wail of ambulance sirens growing closer. Time seemed to compress around them as they rushed back to Dave's side, the reality of the situation crashing down with each step.

Dave lay motionless, a hauntingly still figure in a growing pool of his own blood. Veronica, with a steadiness that belied her inner turmoil, checked for a pulse. The seconds stretched into eternity until she looked up, her face pale.

"There's no heartbeat. I think... I think Dave's gone," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

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Miley's world tilted. "No, this can't be happening. It was just an accident," she mumbled, her voice lost in a haze of denial and shock.

The sound of sirens grew louder, a stark reminder of the impending arrival of emergency services. At that moment, the gravity of their predicament was laid bare. They were on the brink of a situation that would test their resolve, their loyalty, and their capacity to navigate the treacherous waters of truth and consequence. The need for a unified front was imperative, a lifeline in the chaos that threatened to engulf them.

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The interrogation room felt cold and sterile, the harsh fluorescent lights casting long shadows that seemed to stretch across the floor like accusatory fingers. Miley sat across from the police officers, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she recounted the events of the day. Her voice was steady, but inside, a storm of emotions threatened to overwhelm her resolve.

"It was an accident," Miley insisted, her gaze unwavering. "Dave... he stepped back too far, tripped over his chair, and fell through the window. I never meant for any of this to happen."

The officers exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. After what felt like an eternity, one of them nodded slightly.

"According to the statements given by Emma and Veronica, your account matches theirs. And with no concrete evidence to suggest foul play, we're inclined to believe this was a tragic accident."

Relief washed over Miley in waves, yet the heavy burden of grief and guilt tainted it. She nodded, her throat tight with unshed tears. "Thank you," she managed to whisper, her voice hoarse with emotion.

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As she was led out of the interrogation room, the reality of Dave's absence hit her anew. The corridor seemed to stretch on forever, each step taking her further away from the life she had known and deeper into an uncertain future.

Outside, the evening air felt heavy, laden with the weight of the day's events. Veronica and Emma were waiting for her, their faces etched with the same mixture of relief and sorrow that Miley felt. Without a word, they came together in a tight embrace, a silent acknowledgment of the ordeal they had endured and the unspoken understanding that the path ahead would be fraught with challenges.

However, Miley soon discovered that it wouldn't be so easy to carry on living her life. Having the police declare Dave's death an accident was supposed to be a relief but instead, the burden of Miley's actions haunted her.

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The next day, Miley stood motionless before the broken window where Dave had fallen. The bottle of wine in her hand felt inconsequential compared to the weight of guilt pressing down on her. Her gaze was fixed on the dark stain on the paving outside. The silence around her was oppressive, punctuated only by her shallow, uneven breaths.

Compelled by a tumultuous mix of guilt and a desperate need for absolution, Miley reached for her phone with a shaky hand. She dialed Veronica, her voice breaking as she spoke. "Veronica, I... I can't do this. I have to go back to the police. I need to confess everything. I can't live with this... this guilt."

On the other end of the line, Veronica's voice was a mix of concern and urgency. "Miley, please, just sit tight. I'm coming over right now. We need to talk about this," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

True to her word, Veronica arrived shortly after, her expression somber yet determined. She found Miley in the same spot, the bottle of wine untouched, her eyes hollow with the torment of her conscience.

"Miley, listen to me," Veronica began, her voice steady but gentle. "Going back to the police won't change what happened. Dave... Dave was cheating on you. He brought this on himself, not you."

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But Miley was resolute, her decision carved from the deep well of guilt that had consumed her since the moment Dave fell.

"I can't, Veronica. Knowing that I... that I was responsible for his death, even accidentally, it's eating me alive!" Miley's eyes welled up with tears. "I have to do what's right, even if that means facing punishment. I need to come clean."

The path to redemption, as Miley saw it, was through confession and acceptance of the consequences, no matter how dire. It was a decision born from a place of profound guilt and a desperate need for closure, a step towards facing the harsh realities of their actions and their irreversible outcomes.

"I really hoped I could make you see reason, Miley," Veronica began, her voice laced with a weary resignation. "But I see now... I have no other choice."

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Veronica reached into her bag and pulled out a small handgun. Miley's eyes widened in shock, confusion etching her features as her lifelong best friend aimed the gun at her.

"Veronica, what are you doing?" she asked, unable to comprehend the absurdity of the situation.

Veronica's frustration boiled over. "I can't let you confess, Miley!" she exclaimed, the gun wobbling slightly in her grip as she gestured emphatically. "I've crafted a story that keeps us all out of trouble. If you go to the police now, after everything, you'll ruin that. You'll lose your freedom, and I'll lose my license to practice law. I can't—no, I won't let my career end like this. Not after I've worked so hard to help others."

Miley, taking in Veronica's agitated state and the earnest desperation in her voice, felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. The fight, the fear, and the frenzy of the day's events had drained her. She looked at the gun, then back to Veronica, and a faint, placating smile touched her lips.

"Okay, Veronica. Let's talk about this. There has to be another way."

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"I don't think so, Miley, not if you're planning to confess." Veronica looked at her sadly. "Please, believe me when I tell you I never, ever wanted it to turn out like this. I love you, Miley, but I can't lose everything, especially not when I risked it all to help you."

It felt like time slowed to a crawl as Miley watched Veronica's finger tighten against the trigger. She dove for cover behind the dining table, but it was too late. A loud bang filled the air. Pain bloomed in Miley's belly.

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