“If you try to make a scene out of this, you will lose,” he said. “I will have you committed for psychiatric evaluation. I have the medical authority to do it.”

His voice was cold, completely devoid of any emotion.

This was the man I had slept next to for nearly a decade.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“And who is going to believe you over me?” he asked.

“Everyone,” I said.

I slowly brought the phone up between us, the screen facing him.

The green audio waves were dancing across the display, capturing every word.

The timer showed six minutes and forty-two seconds of recording.

Nathan’s eyes locked onto the screen.

The polite, controlled expression on his face shattered.

For a second, his face looked completely blank, stripped of all humanity.

“Delete that,” he said.

His voice was no longer a whisper.

“No,” I said.

I backed up toward the stairs, keeping my eyes on him.

I needed to get to the smart lock panel near the stairs.

I knew the master code was a six-digit number he had chosen based on his old medical license number.