The spa’s lobby smelled of eucalyptus and quiet luxury. Soft music, pale marble, attendants gliding like calm water. Aria walked in wearing wide-leg cream trousers and a silk top, sunglasses still on. She was already picturing the heated massage table when a too-familiar laugh sliced the peaceful air.

Selene.

The celebrity girlfriend of Damian Cross stood at the reception desk, a sunbeam of curated glamour platinum hair loose around her shoulders, designer gym set clinging to her like a brand endorsement. She turned, eyes catching Aria’s reflection in the mirrored wall.

Aria kept her stride steady, pretending not to notice. She handed her phone to the receptionist with a small...