I let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. But they’re gone by morning—or I’m calling the cops.”
Micah’s jaw clenched. “If you’re really going to throw them out… then I’ll leave too.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “Please do.”
I opened the bedroom door, just wanting to crash and forget this nightmare.
But the moment I walked in, I stopped cold.
The bedsheets were crumpled. The blanket had been used. And under my pillow, there it was—women’s underwear. Not mine.
A wave of nausea hit me.
Lana had already slept in my bed?
I grabbed my essentials, didn’t even glance at the people in the living room and stormed out.
I slammed the door behind me. Hard.
I’d stay at a hotel tonight. That place felt dirty now. Tomorrow, I’d bring in a cleaning crew. Maybe even throw out the bed.
The day had drained every ounce of energy out of me. After washing up at the hotel, I collapsed on the bed—only for my phone to buzz.
A friend request.
I accepted without thinking.
Then came the photos.
Every single one showed Micah and Lana, in my house, tangled up in each other on what was supposed to be our marital bed.
The last image came with a message. [Smart women know when to quit.]