Viya's POV
The next afternoon arrived too bright, too ordinary, as if the entire world had not watched my husband kiss another woman under nightclub lights.
For a few minutes, I stayed in bed and listened to the quiet mansion. No hurried apology outside my door. No Lucius demanding to explain. No Miranda screaming that I had ruined her.
That silence told me the scandal had not reached the house yet.
Good.
I wanted one calm hour before the wolves started howling. I wanted tea, a clear head, and enough time to decide which face I would wear when everyone finally remembered I was the injured party. Not the jealous wife. Not the inconvenient Luna. The injured party.
Sophia had once told me that public sympathy was not justice, but it could open doors justice usually had to kick down.
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