ELENA’S POV
Lisa knew exactly what she was doing. Every word, every glance, every honey-drenched lie—it was all a carefully crafted performance designed to break me. And God, it was working.
I sat there, my fork trembling in my hand, the metal digging into my palm as she spoke. Her voice was soft, almost melodic, as she gushed about her pregnancy.
His child.
The words hit me like a knife, twisting deeper with every syllable. I could feel the heat rising in my chest, my throat tightening as I fought to keep my composure.
Don’t react. Don’t give her the satisfaction.
But it was hard. So damn hard.
Her eyes flicked to me, that faint, knowing smile playing on her lips. She was enjoying this—reveling in it. My stomach churned, and I stared down at my plate, the food now a b
