The near-miss in the bathroom left Elena raw and unraveling. For the next several days, she moved through the house like a live wire — hyper-aware of every glance from Marcus, every accidental brush of his hand, every deep rumble of his voice when he spoke to Victoria across the dinner table. The guilt had become a constant companion, whispering in her ear during quiet moments, but the craving… the craving was louder.

It started small.

In the morning, while Victoria was in the shower, Elena found herself in the kitchen watching Marcus make coffee. The way his broad shoulders moved under his dress shirt as he reached for mugs....