Monday morning arrived with a quiet heaviness.
Dianne stood in front of her mirror in her small Notting Hill apartment, smoothing down her blouse for the third time. She didn’t know why she was nervous. Maybe it was because of Roy’s confession the day before. Maybe it was because she hadn’t slept properly after replaying his voice in her head all night.
Or maybe because she knew—deep down—that her life was about to shift again.
She grabbed her bag and headed to work.
The moment Dianne stepped into the Mayfair’s Consulting building, her stomach tightened. People were whispering again. Not as cruelly as during the wedding scandal, but still enough for her to feel it.
She kept her head high.
She had survived worse.
As she settled into her desk, Tessa walked in with her usual cheerful
