The Wedding Home He Stole

On my wedding bed, I found a piece of lingerie that did not belong to me.

White lace, in a very sexy style.

I searched the records on the smart lock of our new home.

At two in the morning yesterday, my fiancé entered the wedding home.

The time he stayed there was six hours and forty-seven minutes.

Standing in the new home, I suddenly felt like the place was as cold as an ice cellar.

I called Ethan Carter.

It rang for a long time before he picked up, and a girl’s sweet, coy laughter came from the background.

I recognized that voice; it was Mia Reed, an intern at his company.