Joanne stared at the screen. Her heart thundered against her ribs, but the rest of her body refused to move. Even blinking felt impossible.
The woman in the photo—elegant, polished, and aristocratic—had her arms draped around Jeffrey. Her head tilted just enough, lips grazing dangerously close to his cheek. And Jeffrey… he was smiling.
That same soft, tender smile he gave Joanne in the morning when he brushed her hair back from her face.
Her fingers trembled as she enlarged the photo, desperately searching for a lie—an awkward shadow, a clumsy edit, something that would give her permission to disbelieve. But it looked real. Too real.
Then came the next text.
[You really think he'll choose you over me?]
Venom. This woman wasn't just flaunting the photo. She knew. She knew about Joanne, knew she was with Jeffrey… and she was issuing a challenge.
