Before I could process the full weight of what I was seeing, the phone vibrated again.

“Convenient,” I said.

“I know how it looks,” he admitted. “But listen to me—he came to me three days before he died. Gave me his phone. Told me if anything happened to him… I should get you somewhere safe.”

I felt like the ground beneath me had shifted.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I whispered.

“He didn’t want to scare you,” Andrew said. “And honestly… I didn’t believe him at first. I thought it was paranoia.”

“And now?” I asked.

Andrew gestured around the cemetery.

“Now I’m not so sure.”

Silence settled between us.

My mind raced, trying to piece together something—anything—that made this logical.

“You expect me to believe,” I said slowly, “that my father was involved in something dangerous, died mysteriously, and instead of telling me, you decided to fake a message from him and run around like a ghost in a graveyard?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds insane,” he admitted.

“It is insane,” I snapped.

Andrew stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“I wasn’t on a trip with my mistress,” he said.

I laughed bitterly. “Really? Because I have proof—”

“I needed her cover,” he cut in.

I blinked.

“What?”

“She works in cyber security,” he said. “I needed someone who could help me access the phone without triggering anything.”

My head spun.

“So you cheated on me for… tech support?”

“No,” he said firmly. “I used the situation to make it look like I left you. So no one would connect me to you tonight.”

My anger faltered, replaced by something far more dangerous:

Uncertainty.

“Why go through all this?” I asked.

Andrew looked me straight in the eyes.