Page 9

Three months later.

The London downpour lashed the windshield of the taxi. Lily paid the driver and dashed toward the towering glass facade of the agency, pulling her coat tight to ward off the bitter wind. It was past nine on a Friday night, and the building was practically deserted.

Ethan had been a ghost lately. He was always working late, always distracted, claiming the pressure of his new Art Director promotion was eating him alive. She wanted to pull his mind away from the relentless stress of the agency. She planned to take him to their favorite hidden cocktail bar in Soho, just to see him smile, and then end the night making love to him with an unhurried, devoted tenderness they hadn't shared in weeks.

Lily swiped her keycard, navigating the deserted, shadowed corridors of the executive floor. She rounded the corner toward his private office, noticing the door was cracked open just a fraction.

She reached out, pushing the polished wood.

Her brain short-circuited. She was entirely unable to process the visceral, grotesque reality playing out right in front of her.

Ethan was pinning a woman back onto his mahogany desk. Papers and architectural blueprints were scattered across the floor, swept aside to make room. The woman’s skirt was shoved up around her waist, her legs wrapped tight around Ethan’s hips.

It was Gemma.

Gemma. The woman who had just sat across from her at Sunday dinner, claiming the title of favorite aunt. The woman who had bumped her shoulder in the kitchen, welcoming her into the family. The friend who was supposed to stand beside her at the altar and adjust her veil.

Lily stood paralyzed, trapped in a waking nightmare. Every agonizing detail burned itself into her retinas. She saw the way his tailored suit trousers were pooled at his ankles, discarding every ounce of respect he supposedly had for their relationship. She saw Ethan’s hands gripping Gemma’s hips so hard his fingers left bruised, red marks on her pale skin. She watched, suffocating on her own breath, as he drove into her with a frantic, unhinged ferocity. There was no condom. No barrier. Just devastating, violent betrayal destroying her universe.

The sickening slap of skin meeting skin rebounded off the glass walls, a rhythmic, punishing beat that hammered the final nail into her heart. Gemma’s manicured nails dug into Ethan’s shoulders, pulling him closer, urging him on.

Ethan’s head dipped, his mouth closing over Gemma’s exposed breast. Gemma threw her head back, a breathless moan escaping her lips, tangling with the primal grunts tearing from Ethan’s throat. The pungent musk of sweat and sex permeated the confined space, twisting Lily’s stomach into a violently sick knot.

It was pure, unfiltered torture. He was destroying her. He was taking a sledgehammer to their entire world and he wasn't even thinking about her while he did it. The beautiful future they had built over peaceful nights and whispered promises disintegrated into ash right before her eyes. The laughter from Sunday dinners, the dreams of a house in Richmond, Gemma’s promise to decorate the guest room—all of it turned to dust in a matter of seconds. Every touch they shared, every promise he made in that kitchen, became a grotesque lie.

A choked, broken sob ripped from Lily’s throat.

Ethan’s head snapped up.

The feral lust in his dark eyes shattered, replaced by stark, paralyzing horror as he saw his fiancée standing in the doorway.

"Lily," Ethan gasped, his voice fracturing. He stumbled back from the desk, fumbling frantically with his belt. "Lily, wait!"

She didn't wait.

Lily spun around and ran. She sprinted down the corridor, her vision blurred by a blinding rush of tears. She burst through the emergency exit, flying down the concrete stairwell, desperate to get the image out of her head, desperate to scrape the reality off her skin. Her chest burned with every frantic breath, her lungs screaming for oxygen she couldn't find.

She slammed through the lobby doors, spilling out into the freezing, rain-swept parking lot. The cold water soaked through her clothes, plastering her dark hair to her face, but the icy sting was nothing compared to the agony carving out her chest.

"Lily! Stop!"

Ethan burst through the doors behind her. His dress shirt was unbuttoned, his tie gone, his chest rising and falling frantically as he sprinted across the wet asphalt. He caught up to her halfway across the lot, his hand clamping down on her forearm to spin her around.

"Don't touch me!" Lily screamed, her voice tearing through the relentless downpour.

"Please, just let me explain!" Ethan begged, his face pale, the rain washing over his frantic features. "It meant nothing! It was a mistake, I swear to God, it was a meaningless mistake!"

"She is your best friend!" Lily shrieked, the betrayal ripping her vocal cords to shreds. "She is like family to me! And you were inside her on the desk where you keep my picture!"

"We were looking at houses, Ethan!" Lily sobbed, her entire body shaking as the freezing rain mingled with her hot tears. "Your mother was just talking about our wedding! Gemma was supposed to be my bridesmaid! How could you do this?"

"I love you!" Ethan cried out, desperation making him reckless. He reached for her face, trying to pull her into his arms. "I only love you, please—"

Lily ripped her arm free. Drawing back with every ounce of shattered fury in her body, she swung.

Her palm connected with his jaw with a resounding, vicious slap.

The force of the impact snapped Ethan’s head to the side. The physical sting burned across Lily’s hand, a tiny, insignificant fraction of the pain he had just inflicted on her soul.