"What do I mean? You claimed to be broke and saving up for our future. You ate my food, wore my clothes, and lived in my house. That's okay because I could cover your expenses." My gaze shifted to Yvonne, who watched with a cold, detached interest. "But what exactly do you mean by sleeping with Yvonne?"
Max's body jerked involuntarily at my words.
His expression, a mix of guilt and panic, made me feel both amusing and heartbreaking.
I had known him for three years, and we had been a couple for two years.
I had pursued Max because he was strikingly handsome, far from the average. He was a sharp-faced man.
He worked late nights as a delivery driver, insisting it was all to save for a house and marry me.
So, I had used my connections to discreetly secure him a job as an artist assistant, a position that earned at least 50,000 dollars a month.
I had taken up a job as a makeup artist to be closer to him.
And now, to my horror, I saw the same aura of ghost on him as on Yvonne.
The aura around him wavered slightly. If it wasn't direct contact with the dead, then it could only mean his contact with Yvonne.
Last night, they had sex!
"Last night," I stated, my eyes locking onto his.