Marcus came home Thursday night.
Elena was in the kitchen making dinner when she heard his car in the driveway. Her heart started pounding, but she forced herself to stay calm. To act normal.
Act like she didn’t know everything.
“I’m home,” Marcus called out, his voice echoing through the too-large house.
“In the kitchen,” Elena called back. Her voice stayed steady.
He appeared in the doorway, still in his suit, looking tired. For a moment—just a moment—Elena felt a flash of the love she used to have for him. This man she’d sacrificed everything for.
Then she remembered the contract. The plan to destroy her. And the feeling died.
“Something smells good,” Marcus said, loosening his tie. “I’m starving. Boston food is terrible.”
Lies. All lies. He’d probably eaten at five-star restaur
