Ethan and I were lounging in the sitting room, his parents having gone out to visit a relative, with Fiona tagging along for the ride. The afternoon sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the mansion, Ethan knelt at my feet, his strong hands working the tension from my arches with expert pressure—pure bliss after a long week stress.
I scrolled lazily through i********: on my phone, half-distracted by the endless feed of influencers and ads. Then a thumbnail caught my eye: a famous channel's interview with Matt and Annabel Anderson. My thumb hovered, tempted to swipe past, but curiosity won. I tapped play.
Annabel sat primly beside her husband, the picture of devoted wifehood, her hand resting possessively on his knee. Matt, looking every bit the wronged tycoon in his tailo
