Elena emerged from the shower, skin raw and scratched from the violent scrubbing.
Her hands trembled as she rubbed a thick layer of ointment over her reddened flesh.
Her eyes, glassy and hollow, flickered toward the window.
The lad…
He was gone.
His work completed.
The garden now orderly, trimmed, quiet.
But she was not free.
The stain of desire still clung to her like a second skin.
A silent whisper telling her… he would return.
Even if she prayed he wouldn't.
Meanwhile, Edward Corvin toiled harder than ever.
Each movement—every hammer strike, every measured cut—was powered by exhaustion.
As if something invisible clawed at his chest, trying to hollow him out from the inside.
He was a man determined to be honest.
Hardworking. Dependable.
Yet the weight of that "weirdness" grew unbearable.
Unbeknownst to him…
Joslyne, the boss's wife…
Watched.
Her eyes lingered longer than propriety allowed.
Her gaze devoured him.
She was no longer distant.
No longer aloof.
She was… something else.
A predator cloaked in civility.
Her breath grew shallow as she ogled Edward's strained muscles,
The way his body moved under the weght of invisible torment.
It was more than desire.
It was an obsession.
Yet… Joslyne didn't see the trap.
She only knew… she could no longer reist.
Her body… her mind… had already given up.
She surrendered.
Lost.
Trapped.
Now, both Edward and Elena existed in the same cruel cycle.
Elena… waiting for the lad's inevitable return.
Edward… bracing for Joslyne's inevitable advance.
Hoping against reason that neither would happen.
But it would.
Because…
This was not a momentary lapse.
Not a fleeting temptation.
This…
Was the true, inevitable collapse.
And soon…
Even the innocent eyes of Samuel and Clara Corvin would see it.
Feel it.
Become it.
Because...
"A sin...does not differ.."