A penthouse.
Alpha Sebastian had bought one for his parents, then another as a wedding gift for Isabella. Now he was offering a third to Serena Winthrop.
In four years, he had never offered his wife so much as a key in her own name.
Eira gave a short, bitter laugh.
She had only come back for clothes. Five minutes, in and out.
Then she opened the bedroom door.
Serena's floral scent hung in the air, sweet and stale.
Eira shoved open a window. When she turned back, something black beneath the bed caught her eye.
A scrap of lace.
Not hers.
Her stomach tightened. She pulled back the comforter.
Rumpled sheets. Serena's scent. More than enough evidence.
Alpha Sebastian and Serena had slept together.
In her bed.
"Oh, God."
Nausea rushed up her throat.
