POV: Chloe
I will never, as long as I live, forgive my ringtone.
The cheerful little pop song died instantly as Ethan’s thumb swiped the screen. The silence that followed was suffocating—the heavy, static kind that fills a room right before something irreversible happens.
From under the desk, I couldn’t see Ethan’s face. I didn’t need to. I could hear his total stillness. The way his breathing shifted from casual to dangerously careful.
I did the only thing I could think of. I shoved my phone upward, straight into Tristan’s hand. His long fingers closed around it without hesitation.
“That’s Chloe’s,” Ethan stated slowly.
“It is.” Tristan’s delivery was flawless. Composed, faintly puzzled. The tone of a man simply identifying an object, not constructing a massive lie on the fly. “She
