There was silence.
Then Caleb laughed.
Not a joyful laugh. A cruel one. The kind he used when he wanted me to remember I was supposed to feel small.
“Still dramatic, Maya?” he said. “You couldn’t even let me have this day?”
Behind him, I heard music, clinking glasses, a woman giggling.
Vanessa.
His new bride. His former assistant. The woman he swore was “just organized” when I found her lipstick on his collar, her perfume in his car, her messages hidden under a fake name.
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