The lights were off as I let myself in, my footsteps soft against the polished floor. The house felt colder, emptier without her laughter echoing through the halls.
I made my way to her bedroom, the sight of her untouched toys making my chest ache.
Then I heard voices.
From our bedroom.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I crept closer, pressing myself against the hallway wall.
Marco’s voice was low, tense. “You shouldn’t have come.”
A soft, mocking laugh followed. “Why not? Your wife’s gone, isn’t she? You should be thanking me.”
Selena.
My stomach twisted violently.
“I didn’t ask you to come here,” Marco snapped.
“You never ask,” she purred. “But we both know you never say no.”
A rustle of fabric. A soft hum of amusement.
I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood.
Selena continued, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Honestly, the way you looked at me today at the funeral? It was thrilling. Your dead daughter, your grieving wife, and yet you couldn’t take your eyes off me.”
A choked sound rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down.
“Enough,” Marco muttered. “This is dangerous.”
Selena scoffed. “Dangerous? Please. The only danger is Olivia finding out the truth.”