Elena Caldwell sipped her wine in the dimly lit penthouse, staring at the city lights sparkling below. Rhys had been “working late” again. The third time this week. She wasn’t stupid.

She’d noticed the changes. The way he came home smelling faintly of another woman’s perfume — something cheap and sweet that definitely wasn’t hers. The marks on his neck he tried to hide with his collar. The way his cock stayed harder longer these days, like he was fucking someone who took him with desperate, greedy hunger.

*Someone like my little sister.*

The suspicion had been gnawing at her for days. Lila had been acting strange too — flushed...