Lucas
I got home earlier than usual, hoping to catch a quiet hour alone before dinner. But the moment I stepped into the dining hall, I stopped dead in my tracks.
The entire table was set like a holiday banquet; champagne on ice, candlelight flickering, silver covers steaming. And Cynthia…
She stood at the head of the table in one of her dramatic evening gowns; gold, body-hugging and elegant, smiling like nothing in the world was wrong.
“Welcome home, husband dear,” she chimed. “Come take your seat.”
I blinked. I hadn’t even known she was in town. Her trips were longer these days, Paris today, Dubai tomorrow and communication had become a courtesy, not a habit.
Slowly, I walked to the chair she pulled out for me. She poured champagne into my glass herself. Ben, our steward, was nowhe
