It started with a text.
Ezra: "Meet me. 3PM. Café Lumière. Come alone."
Fini stared at her screen for a long time. Then she closed it, grabbed her coat… and left.
She didn't owe Calvin anything.
Not his loyalty. Not his silence. Not after the lies he kept buried in every corner of that mansion.
---
The café was quiet.
Ezra sat near the window, the light kissing his cheekbones like he belonged in an old film.
"You came," he said.
"I shouldn't have."
"But you did."
Fini sat down. The tension between them was softer than with Calvin—yet more dangerous. Ezra's eyes held things he wasn't saying.
"You deserve more than that house," he said.
"That house is my prison. But it's also my husband's."
"And does he care for his cellmate?" Ezra asked, voice gentle.
She didn't answer.
But she didn't deny it either.
---
Back at the mansion…
Liora stood by the bar in a silk robe, swirling a glass of wine. She'd been watching Calvin drown himself in whiskey for nearly an hour.
"You know," she said, "you were happier before she came."
"I wasn't anything before she came," Calvin muttered.
She moved closer. "Then let me remind you of what you were."
One touch. One moment. One blurred line too many.
She kissed him.
He didn't pull away.
Not fast enough.
Not before her fingers slipped up to snap a photo—just as his eyes fluttered closed.
Click.
---
Fini returned home as the sky turned gold.
She walked into silence, sensing something was wrong. The hall smelled like alcohol. Calvin's jacket was tossed carelessly over the couch.
She walked toward their bedroom… but stopped.
A photo frame lay on the floor. Shattered glass. A sign of chaos.
Her chest tightened.
Then her phone buzzed.
1 New Message from Unknown Number
📷 [Image attached]
> Your husband says he's yours. But he kisses like he's mine.
–L
Fini froze. Her world tilted.
Her knees almost buckled—until she caught herself on the wall.
And in that moment, something inside her snapped.