Sandra clapped mockingly, slow and sharp. “Pathetic,” she drawled. “Maybe if you hadn’t opened your legs for every man you met, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”
The words stabbed straight into me. My hands went cold. The floor tilted a little, but I forced a smile. “And maybe if you focused on your marriage, you wouldn’t need to follow me around for entertainment.”
A few customers chuckled quietly. The receptionist’s face turned crimson. Sandra’s lips quivered with rage. She opened her mouth for another insult—but another voice cut through the tension.
“Stop.”
The single word rang clear and deep, silencing everything around us.
I froze.
That voice.
I turned slowly.
And my heart nearly stopped.
Michael.
He stood near the counter, tall and sharp in a black coat, his expression unread
