A few moments later, the sounds of their pleasure seeped through the door.
My heart remained still. After all, I had only come to the Claires to repay a debt of gratitude. As for anything else, I didn't dare to hope, nor had I ever let my heart stray.
Fiona and Mason had been entangled for a long time. As my flight approached, I didn't plan to wait any longer. So, I placed a divorce agreement under his door and went downstairs with my luggage.
Unexpectedly, Weston blocked my path at the door.
He kicked over my suitcase and said in disgust.
"What? I say a few words to you and you throw a tantrum and try to run away from home? Huh, I don't think I know what you're thinking. Aren't you just trying to use this to get my mommy's attention? How ridiculous."
I didn’t say a word. I just bent down, calmly picked up my suitcase and started walking around him.
Then, out of nowhere, Weston grabbed the fruit knife from the table.
And lunged.
He came at me fast—knife angled right toward my chest, his face twisted with anger.
