"Time to go to bed, honey," Ross said, his voice low, steady, almost tender.
Ashley froze where she stood.
That simple phrase, so ordinary, so casual—it shouldn't have made her heart race like this. But it did. Her hands trembled slightly at her sides.
She felt it in her stomach too, a twisting knot of nerves and dread. Not because she was afraid of Ross hurting her, no… but because she didn't know how to face the truth.
For the past few nights, Ross had respected her boundaries. He hadn't crossed the line, hadn't even touched her.
He'd slept in a separate room, as if he understood she needed space, time to process everything. But tonight was different. Tonight, it felt like that space was quietly vanishing.
She turned to look at him.
He stood at the doorway to her room, relaxed, composed. A faint, knowing smile tugged at his lips. That face—Cyril's face—looked back at her, familiar and safe. But Ashley knew better now.
She knew the man in front of her was not her husband.
