Mike strode into the mansion like a storm about to erupt. The weight of betrayal, deceit, and shame clung to his shoulders, but his face remained blank—cold and unreadable. Cynthia followed behind him slowly, her fingers twitching at her sides. She felt it coming. Whatever had been holding Mike back before was about to break.

They entered the sitting room. The grand chandelier above cast shimmering gold light over the marble tiles, but it did nothing to warm the chill in the air.

Without a word, Mike pulled his phone from his coat pocket, his jaw tight as he tapped the screen. Then he walked to the center table, placed...