Kelsey had always assumed Damien would come back. That no matter how far he wandered, he would eventually return to her. He always had.
She was the one woman he'd loved for years. She had been certain of that fact. But now . . . something had changed. Something permanent.
And the reason for that shift had a name.
"Estelle . . . ," she spat the name like poison, her voice a hiss barely above a whisper.
She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her face contorted in a mixture of disbelief and venom, her mask of elegance now shattered and discarded.
The poised, well-mannered Kelsey was gone—what remained was the fury of a woman scorned.
"You little bitch," she whispered again, bitterly. "You think you've won?"
But she wasn't just angry at Estelle. No. Beneath the rage burned humiliation. She had begged. Lowered herself. Cried in front of Damien. And all for what?
To be rejected.
