Lana’s POV
The morning after felt like a nightmare I couldn’t wake from.
I had scrubbed my lips raw in the hotel bathroom, hoping to erase the taste of Artemis, of betrayal, of myself. But it lingered—just like the shame.
I hadn’t told Julian. I couldn’t.
I barely remembered how we got home. I only remembered the dizzy heat, the room spinning, and Artemis’s mouth on mine. I remembered how wrong it felt—and how a part of me didn’t want it to stop. And that was the worst part.
Now, with trembling hands, I sat at the vanity in my hotel suite, pretending to apply makeup while Julian ordered breakfast downstairs. My phone buzzed. I jumped.
Unknown Number. One image. No text.
I tapped it open—and stopped breathing.
A photo.
Me, half-naked, arms around Artemis, lips locked, flushed and d
