The kitchen was a masterpiece of modern opulence—marble countertops gleamed under pendant lights that hung like crystals, the metallic sheen of state-of-the-art appliances reflecting the morning light spilling through massive floor-to-ceiling windows. A center island stretched long enough to host a royal feast. But none of it fazed me. My thoughts were elsewhere.
Dontrell. Last night. The file. Where had he gone? Did Andrew know? Were they together? Questions swirled relentlessly in my mind, gnawing at me, refusing to let go.
I absentmindedly took a bite of the toast, but it was dry in my mouth. First simple meal in ages. Ever since I married, my mornings were filled with extravagant meals prepared by chefs determined to "fatten me up," whether here or at his father’s mansion. It was exc
