But...Leon.
And the way the other woman said it with such intimacy had Lexy’s stomach turning.
She stared down at the envelope, making no move to touch it. It sat there on the white marble like something poisonous, something that would bite if she got too close.
“What’s inside?”
“Photos of us together.” Lydia’s voice was pained. “Photos that no one had any right to take.”
Photos of them together.
Photos of Leonidas with this woman.
Photos of him doing to Lydia what he had done to her just hours ago—his hands, his mouth, his body moving against someone else’s in ways that Lexy had thought, foolishly, were hers alone.
“You should look—”
No.
Bile rose in her throat, hot and acidic, and she had to clench her jaw to keep from gagging right there at the table. But to show weakness in front of this woman—this woman who had shared her husband’s bed for six years, who had known his touch when Lexy had known nothing but lonelines—felt like a defeat she couldn’t afford.
She jerked to her feet instead, grabbing the envelope with fingers that shook despite her best efforts to steady them. “Thank you for this.”
The words came out wrong—too fast, too uneven—but she was already moving, already weaving through the tables with the kind of clumsy haste that had her bumping into chairs and knocking against other patrons and not caring, not caring about any of it, because she just needed to get out, needed air, needed to be anywhere but here.
Behind her, Lydia watched her go with barely concealed triumph.
Idiot.
Leonidas’s wife might be hailed as a genius in the world of racing and engineering, but in this world—the real world, the world where women fought for men and the ruthless always won—idiots like her always lost. Too nice, too trusting, too pathetically—
Lydia’s eyes widened.
Was that Leonidas?
Was that him bursting through the cafe door like a man possessed, his gaze fixed on his wife with an intensity that made something cold settle in Lydia’s stomach?
Was that him going after her like he was desperate to keep her?
Like their marriage had become something more than a business arrangement?
Like she actually meant something to him?
No.
No, that wasn’t possible.
That wasn’t—
But Leonidas was already gone, chasing after his wife without so much as a glance in Lydia’s direction, and for the first time since she’d set this plan in motion, doubt began to creep in.
****
Leonidas had knownsomething was wrong the moment Sienah told him where Lexy had gone.
The cafe she’d named was one of Lydia’s favorites—he’d taken her there himself, years ago, back when their arrangement was new and he’d still been foolish enough to think that keeping a mistress was simply a practical solution to a physical problem. The coincidence was too perfect, the timing too convenient, and even as he ran through the facility and out into the Monaco morning, he knew he was already too late.
The damage was done.
