Tristan’s glare deepened. “Enough with that, Ember. Go and clean this place up. I’m not marrying a jealous mate who can’t do anything right.”
He left, carrying her out like some tragic princess. I stood there, trembling.
“I wouldn’t marry a lying, cheating Alpha either,” I whispered.
I stepped inside, the scent of stale perfume and betrayal hitting me. The bathroom floor was soaked. In the trash, two used condoms. My stomach churned. So this was it. His overtime, his excuses—it had all been for her.
Selene’s room was a shrine to luxury. Designer bags, high-end skincare, glittering jewelry. I thought about the lipstick I had asked Tristan for, just days ago. How he had sneered at me.
“Twenty-four years old and still trying to act like a teenager?”
I clenched my fists, the memory burning. I wasn’t eighteen anymore, but that didn’t make me worthless. It didn’t make me disposable.
I pulled out my phone and took pictures of everything. Not for revenge. For me. Proof of what I had endured.