Amelia did not sleep.
She sat on the edge of the bed in the east suite with her phone clenched in her hand, reading the screenshots until the words became sharp little cuts beneath her skin.
I have never stopped caring about you.
This marriage is temporary. It changes nothing between us.
You are the woman I should have chosen.
The messages could have been false.
Maya had taught her never to trust a screenshot without verifying its source. Images could be altered. Names could be changed. Dates could be manipulated.
But the messages felt true.
That was what frightened Amelia most.
They sounded like Lucas.
Measured. Controlled. Devoid of unnecessary sentiment, yet somehow more painful because of it.
She thought of the photograph in his bedroom. Lucas smiling against Vivienne’s temp
