I lowered my gaze, instinctively opening my chat history with Phoebe. Since that fateful day a month ago, when she had lured me into discovering her affair with Lex, Phoebe had made it her mission to torment me every single day. Every sordid detail of their encounters landed in my inbox. Just as I was scrolling through the old messages, a new one slid in.
It was a photo of Phoebe, draped sloppily in my diamond-studded wedding gown, the zipper was way down her back, her lips curled into a suggestive pout.
“Mr. Blackburn couldn’t take his eyes off this photo and rushed right over to see me. Sorry for borrowing your gown, Miss Copeland. Hope you don’t mind.”
The message was followed by a link to a livestream.
My hands trembled as I clicked it.
On the screen, Lex yanked open the curtain of a fitting room, his face twisted in anger. “Who said you could wear it? It is Tara’s wedding gown. Take it off right now!”
Phoebe’s expression turned coy, her bare leg sliding out from beneath the gown as she leaned toward Lex.
“Don’t you think I look good in this, Mr. Blackburn? If you don’t like it, then why did you come running the second you saw that photo?”