I stirred my drink, gathering the courage to ask the next question.
“What about… her? The woman he—” My voice thinned.
She drew in a slow breath. “Well… I went to see her. She played a part in destroying my marriage, she needed to understand the consequences. Things got pretty messy at her office. She was even called in by HR. I don’t know what happened after that, and honestly, I don’t care. What matters is… she knows she chose the wrong person to mess with.”
I blinked, stunned.
Then her expression shifted. “Elena... don’t tell me you haven’t confronted that whore.”
Heat rose to my cheeks. I looked away.
Jessica’s eyes widened. “You haven’t.”
I shook my head slowly. “I just... I feel sick even imagining myself talking to her.”
Jessica leaned closer, voice firm. “Elena, you should at least give her one lesson. She borrowed money from your husband. She slept with him. She deserves to know exactly who she crossed.”
I whispered, “Do I really have to?”
“Yes,” Jessica said without missing a beat. “So she knows better than to ever try this again.”
I pressed a hand to my stomach, feeling the faint pressure of a kick.
I wasn’t sure if it was courage I felt rising in me, or rage.
CHAPTER 8
Adrian
We were having dinner in near silence—just the soft clink of cutlery, the occasional scrape of a chair, and Elena keeping her eyes firmly on her plate. Every now and then, I glanced at her—hoping she’d look back, hoping she’d say something—but she didn’t. She ate quietly, detached, like I wasn’t even sitting across from her.
Then she suddenly set down her fork and spoon.
“Did you already end things with her?” she asked, out of nowhere.
I froze, my hand still halfway lifting my glass. “God, of course, Elena. I ended it long before you ever saw those messages. After that, our contact was strictly about the loan. That’s it.”
She let out a quiet, bitter scoff. The sound barely carried, but it hit harder than shouting. She didn’t look at me, just breathed out a humorless laugh and wiped her mouth with a napkin.
But I could tell she wasn’t done. I set my utensils down and met her eyes.
“What else do you want to know?” I asked.
“What did she say when you ended it?” she pressed.
I swallowed. There was no right answer. Anything I said would hurt her, and saying nothing would hurt her too.
“She accepted it,” I said finally.
Her brows pulled together. “Just like that?”
I nodded once, slowly. Honestly, I didn’t know what she wanted to hear, whether she expected Phoebe to fight, to cry, tobeg me to stay, or if she needed validation from the empty words I had written to Phoebe.
“And what about her debt?” she asked next, her tone sharpening.
I let out a slow breath. “She did ask to borrow more, but I refused. I’m not giving her anything beyond what we already agreed on.”
“How much did she borrow?”
