The silence in the waiting room was deafening.
Everyone stared at the cracked phone in the nurse's hand. At Isabella's face on the screen—peaceful, vulnerable, intimate. At proof that Liam Black, the man who claimed emotions were weakness, who never kept personal photos, who maintained perfect control over every aspect of his life—
Had been keeping a picture of his secretary on his lock screen.
His wife.
His secret wife.
"That's—" Chloe's voice cracked. "That's impossible. He would have told me. We were—" She stopped, her face flushing. "We had dinner last week. He never mentioned—"
"Why would he mention his wife to his date?" Isabella asked quietly, the words coming out sharper than intended.
Chloe's face went white, then red. "We weren't—it wasn't—"
"It doesn't matter," Margaret interrupted, but her voice lacked its usual authority. She was staring at the phone like it had personally betrayed her. "That photo proves nothing. It could be—"
