He hummed in amusement before his tone shifted into something more suggestive. "Vanessa, the office is empty at night. And we didn't have enough fun at the hotel earlier. How about here?"
Vanessa's laughter grew breathy. "You're so naughty..."
Then, the unmistakable sounds of hurried movements. The rustling of fabric. The stifled gasps and whispers.
Anger boiled in my veins. Vanessa—the woman I had spent years loving, protecting, cherishing—had never once hesitated to betray me.
She had never truly cared.
I had fought for her, bled for her. I had given up opportunities to stay by her side. When her parents had fallen ill, I had drained my own savings to help them. When she had told me she was afraid of childbirth, I had never once pressured her for children.
And yet, all these years, I had been nothing more than a fool in her eyes.
Through the haze of fury, I forced myself to breathe. Now wasn't the time to act rashly. Tristan was more dangerous than I had ever realized and I needed solid proof—evidence of his crimes. Only then could I bring him down completely.
Silently, I slipped out of the building.
But one thing still didn't make sense.