The Detective I Loved and Tried to Kill

For three years, I've watched his routine so intently my eyes have calloused. Detective Nate Blackwood—the man who swore in court my parents "resisted arrest and assaulted officers"—became my only reason to keep breathing.
I approached him through his lost brother, crafting a gentle persona, manufacturing chance encounters, always with odorless, tasteless poison tucked away in my bag. But when he instinctively shielded me during the restaurant robbery, when the light in his eyes as he said "family is everything" made me falter—I panicked.
How could the man I've hated for three years make my heart race? In this revenge-driven charade, who's really falling into whose trap?