Amelia sat frozen in her office chair, eyes fixed on the grainy image still glowing on her screen.
Sebastian. Isabelle. Together. Close.
The picture shouldn’t have rattled her. Their marriage wasn’t built on trust, let alone love. But the betrayal she saw in that single frame was a sharp, invisible blade—one she hadn’t braced herself for.
The logical part of her—the one that had survived under Sebastian’s command for years—tried to rationalize it. Maybe it was business. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Isabelle leaned in, and Sebastian didn’t push her away fast enough.
But the woman in her, the one buried beneath years of ambition and armor, couldn’t let it go.
Why was he touching Isabelle like that?
Why had he warned Amelia to “play her role” when he clearly had another act running in se
