"A meeting?" I found my voice, though it sounded shrill and pathetic even to my own ears. "You smelled like her last night, Julian. When you came home. You were with her."
Julian’s eyes darkened, the performative warmth from last night vanishing as if it had never existed. A flash of genuine, razor-sharp irritation broke through his mask, turning his gaze into two chips of black ice.
"Since when do I answer to you, Delia?" he asked, his voice low and devoid of any emotion. It wasn't a question; it was a reminder of my place in his hierarchy. "I don't recall our marriage certificate including a GPS tracker or a daily interrogation. If I am at the office, I am working. If my clothes carry a scent, it’s because I’ve been in a room with people who have more purpose than standing in parking l
