Alexia braced her palms against the sink, staring hard at her reflection. The faint trace of moisture in her eyes had already dried, leaving behind only the faintest redness. She hated it. Hated how easily Carissa’s words had pierced through her armor.
No. She drew in a deep breath, steadying her pulse. You’re Alexia Reyes. You don’t break. You don’t feel. You don’t care.
The tears, the sting, the ache in her chest — she shoved them down where no one could touch them. Emotions got people killed. Attachments got people killed. And she hadn’t survived this long by being soft.
This marriage? This life with Nate and the twins? It was fake. A convenient cover, nothing more. He needed her, she needed him — an arrangement built on survival, not affection. She repeated it in her head like a man
