Miranda’s words came out sharp, almost instinctive—but there was a crack beneath them she couldn’t hide.

Adrian didn’t move.

He stood there, eyes locked on her, the anger in them no longer loud—but heavy.

“Then tell me,” he said, voice low, controlled. “What exactly am I supposed to believe?”

Miranda forced herself to meet his gaze. “I already told you. It’s fake. Someone set me up.”

Adrian let out a short, humorless laugh.

“Set you up?” He took a step closer. “A photo like that? On your own phone? And you expect me to believe someone just… what, magically created it?”