Emma did not sleep.
She lay in bed beside Nick, staring at the ceiling, the photograph burning in her memory. She had hidden the envelope in her suitcase, buried under clothes she wouldn't need until the honeymoon. Nick didn't know. No one knew except Rachel.
After the wedding, she told herself. After tomorrow.
But tomorrow was here.
The sun rose over the city, painting the penthouse in shades of gold and pink. Nick was still asleep beside her, his arm draped across her waist, his breathing slow and steady. Emma watched him for a long moment — the scar on his jaw, the dark lashes against his pale skin, the peace on his face that she had never seen before.
He's happy, she thought. I can't ruin this.
She slipped out of bed and walked to the bathroom.
The woman in the mirror looked tir
