When his assistant finished exposing Lyra's crimes, an icy dread shot through Wesley's veins and rooted him to the spot.
'Would Zoe ever forgive him after everything he had done?'
The damning evidence slammed onto the coffee table where Lyra sat painting her nails in the mansion's lavish lounge. Her brush hovered mid-stroke, but her lips curled into a practiced smile.
"Wesley, it's not what you think," she said calmly.
Without a word, he signaled to his bodyguards. They moved forward and yanked her up from the sofa like a sack of potatoes.
"What the hell are you doing?" she shrieked, kicking wildly. "Since when do you treat me like this? You have always spoiled me rotten!"
They dragged her through the house and threw her into the basement. It was a windowless concrete box lit by a si
