He nodded slightly, glancing around the bus again before leaning closer.
“Everything you think happened at the wedding… was planned,” he said.
A hollow laugh escaped me. “Planned? You collapsing in front of everyone? That was planned?”
“Yes.”
“No,” I snapped, shaking my head. “No, that was real. I saw you. You weren’t breathing. Your lips—”
“They gave me something,” he interrupted softly. “A compound. It slows the heart rate to almost nothing. To the point where even trained professionals can mistake it for death.”
My stomach dropped.
“They?” I repeated.
“My family.”
The word felt heavier this time.
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