"Well, well, look who’s here—Mrs. Anderson," Drake's friend quipped with a teasing grin as they spotted the young woman standing outside the sleek car near the university gate. She was waiting for someone, and there was no mystery about who that someone was—Drake.
"Man, your wife’s got you under surveillance," another friend joked, nudging him playfully.
"Shut up," Drake muttered, his gaze locking onto Samantha. His jaw tensed, fingers curling into a fist at his side. He hated seeing her here—hated how she inserted herself into his space so effortlessly. Sure, they were married, but that didn’t mean she had to show up at his university as if she belonged in his life. She and her grandfather had already made sure he stayed in their world, but now they were hovering, unwilling to grant him
