Seraphina’s POV
The coffee shop Gabriel chose was exactly the kind of place I’d expect from him—too expensive, too trendy, full of people who cared more about being seen than actually drinking coffee.
I spotted him imdiately. Sitting in the back corner booth, that familiar smirk already plastered on his face.
My stomach churned. Every instinct scread to turn around and leave.
But I needed answers. And he had them.
I forced my feet to move. Crossed the crowded space. Slid into the seat across from him.
"Well, well." His smile widened. "Look who showed up."
I didn’t respond. Just stared at him with as much contempt as I could manage.
"You look good, Sera." His eyes dragged over slowly. Deliberately. "Really good. That tight little body of yours—"
"Don’t you dare." The word ca out sharp.
He laughed. Leaned back in his seat. "What? I’m just appreciating the view. Can’t bla a guy for looking."
My hands clenched into fists under the table. "I didn’t co here for this."
"No?" He tilted his head. Mock innocence. "Then why did you co? Finally realized my brother’s boring as hell? Ready to rember what a real man feels like?"
The urge to slap him was overwhelming.
"Co on, Sera." He leaned forward. His voice dropping lower. More intimate. "We were so good together. Rember? The way you used to moan my na—"
"Stop your disgusting mouth." I forced the word through clenched teeth.
"Why? Because it’s true?" His smile turned cruel. "Because you rember exactly how good I made you feel? How many tis I made you—"
"Your performance was diocre at best." The words ca out ice-cold. "Actually, Valerie told your sexual function is pretty terrible. Said you couldn’t even last five minutes."
His face went red. The smirk vanished.
"She said what?"
"You heard ." I leaned back. Crossed my arms. "My sister complained constantly about your... shortcomings. Said sleeping with you was like watching paint dry. Boring. Disappointing. Over way too fast."
Gabriel’s jaw clenched. His hands gripped the edge of the table.
"That lying bitch—"
"So no." I cut him off. "I have absolutely zero interest in ’restoring’ anything with you. I’d rather eat glass. I’d rather set myself on fire. I’d rather literally do anything else than touch you again."
The silence that followed was delicious.
He sat there. Face burning. Pride wounded. Exactly where I wanted him.
"Now." I kept my voice businesslike. "Are you going to give what I ca for? Or did you waste both our ti?"
He stared at for a long mont. Sothing dark flickering behind his eyes.
Then he pulled out his phone. Started scrolling.
"The surveillance footage." I prompted. "That’s why I’m here."
"Yeah, yeah." He didn’t look up. "I heard you."
"So?"
"So..." He set the phone down. Pushed it toward slightly. "Here’s the thing."
My stomach dropped. "What thing?"
"I don’t actually have the footage."
Of course. Of course he didn’t.
I started to stand up. "Then we’re done here."
"Wait." His hand shot out. Grabbed my wrist. "I said I don’t have it. Not that I can’t get it for you."
I yanked my arm free. "What’s the difference?"
"The difference is I know where it is." He leaned back again. That smirk returning. "I know which hotel. Which room. Exactly when it happened."
My heart hamred. "You’re lying."
"Am I?" He pulled out a napkin. Started writing. "See for yourself."
He slid the napkin across the table.
I stared at the address written there. Hotel na. Room number. Date and ti.
"The ridian. Room 2847." Gabriel’s voice was casual now. Almost helpful. "They checked in around 10 PM. Didn’t check out until noon the next day."
"The hotel has caras in every hallway," he continued. "Every elevator. Every entrance and exit. If you want proof of what happened, that’s where you’ll find it."
"Why should I believe you?"
"Because." He shrugged. "I have nothing to gain by lying. You’ll either go there and find out I’m right, or you’ll go there and find out I’m wrong. Either way, I get to watch the drama unfold."
I looked at him. Really looked at him.
He was enjoying this. Every second of it. The chaos. The pain. The destruction.
"You’re sick," I said quietly.
"Maybe." He grinned. "But I’m not wrong."
I grabbed the napkin. Stood up.
"Where are you going?" He called after . "Don’t you want to hear more details? I could tell you all about—"
"Go to hell, Gabriel."
I walked away. Fast. Before I could change my mind. Before I could do sothing stupid like throw my coffee in his face.
The cool air outside hit like a slap.
I stood on the sidewalk for a mont. Staring at the napkin in my hand.
The ridian Hotel. Room 2847.
I could go there. Ask for the footage. Confirm what Gabriel had shown .
Or I could walk away. Go ho. Pretend I never saw that picture. Never had this conversation.
My phone buzzed. I pulled it out.
Unknown number again.
**Unknown: Did you get what you needed? :)**
Gabriel. Of course.
I blocked the number without responding.
Then I looked at the napkin again.
The ridian Hotel was fifteen blocks from here. Twenty-minute walk. Ten-minute drive if I caught a cab.
I could be there in minutes. Could have answers in an hour.
The question was—did I actually want those answers?
What if Gabriel was telling the truth? What if the footage showed exactly what he’d claid? Damien and Emma checking in together. Spending the night. Leaving the next morning.
Could I handle seeing that? Could I survive watching proof of my husband betraying ?
But what if I didn’t look? What if I just went ho and pretended everything was fine?
That felt worse sohow. Living in doubt. Never knowing for sure. Always wondering.
I started walking.
My feet carried forward. One step. Then another. Then another.
The napkin crumpled in my fist.
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