PREVIEW
... low of the bedside lamp. Wesley stood frozen, his polished exterior crumbling as he stared at the blood-soaked sheets, the unconscious stranger, and Annie, her tear-streaked face buried in her hands. The air was thick with the coppery scent of blood and the lingering musk of her infidelity, a gut-punch to the man who’d built his life around control. His jaw clenched, his eyes glassy with shock, and after an eternity, he muttered, "What... fuck!"
"Wesley, I’m so sorry," Annie sobbed, knee ...
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