“Did you fuck her in our bed?”
The words tore from my throat like broken glass as I stood frozen in the doorway of the penthouse suite, staring at my husband of five years cradled intimately against my half-sister’s body on the couch.
Damon’s head snapped up, his dark eyes wide with shock. “Elise—”
“Answer me!” I screamed, my voice echoing through the marble-floored living room. “Did you screw my sister in the bed where I sleep?”
Bianca—beautiful, perfect Bianca—had the audacity to smirk as she adjusted her silk robe, making no effort to move away from my husband’s lap.
“Hello, sister,” she purred. “Surprise.”
The birthday cake I’d flown twelve hours to deliver crashed to the floor, chocolate and vanilla splattering across Italian marble like the remains of my shattered heart.
This was supposed to be Ava’s sixth birthday surprise. I was supposed to walk in to squeals of delight from my daughter, not catch my husband in post-coital bliss with the woman who’d spent our entire marriage trying to steal everything I had.
“Mommy!”
I turned toward the sweet voice, hope blooming in my chest for one desperate second—until I saw my six-year-old daughter running straight past me and into Bianca’s outstretched arms.
“Mommy, you’re here! Daddy said you might come for my party!”
