The silence after Victor’s roar was heavier than any scream could ever be. Freya stood frozen on the staircase, silk robe clutched tight around her body, tears streaming down her face. The photos lay scattered on the marble floor like shattered pieces of their secret world — her legs wrapped around Draven, head thrown back in ecstasy, his hands gripping her ass as he thrust up into her.
Victor’s face was a mask of betrayal and fury. The man who had always been her steady rock now looked at her like she had stabbed him in the heart.
“Dad… please,” she whispered, voice breaking. “It’s not what you think. I love him.”
Victor laughed bitterly, a sound that cut deeper than any insult. “Love? You’re twenty-two, Freya. He’s forty-two, married, and my goddamn best friend for twenty years!” He t
