The next morning, Marcus didn’t confront Rachel at her luxury apartment. Instead, he drove straight to his mother’s old brick house.
As he pulled up, his chest tightened. The beautiful garden his mother used to tend was overgrown and dead. Standing on the porch, smoking a cigarette, was Thomas. And right next to him, leaning against the doorframe in a silk robe, was Rachel.
When Rachel saw Marcus’s car, her face drained of all color. Thomas merely smirked, crossing his arms.
Leave a Comment