“But Lena’s been in that room for so long. Moving all of a sudden… won’t that be hard on her?”
Andrew glanced at Lena by the doorway. “She’ll have to get used to it. She needs to accept that I’m getting married, that this house has a mistress now, and that she’s nothing more than an outsider.”
Lena’s lashes trembled. A self-mocking smile tugged at her lips.
An outsider.
He wasn’t wrong. That’s exactly what she was.
She exhaled softly. “I’ll pack up now.”
It didn’t matter. Soon, she’d be gone—back to her father, never stepping foot here again.
This house belonged to Andrew and Nicole.
***
Lena buried herself in embassy paperwork, leaving early, coming back late—anything to dodge Andrew.
Didn’t matter. She still saw it. His over-the-top devotion to Nicole.
If Nicole had no appetite, he flew in world-class chefs.
If she felt sick, he ditched billion-dollar deals to stay by her side.
If she so much as glanced at a piece of jewelry, it was in her hands within minutes—hand-delivered by him.
Lena just watched. No drama. No tears.
While waiting for her immigration papers, she started packing. Clothes first. Then, every pathetic love letter she’d ever written him. Sketches, too. All of it went into a box.
She planned to throw it all away.
Box in hand, she headed for the door—only to collide straight into Andrew. He was carrying desserts. Probably for Nicole.
She ignored him, kept walking.
Pain shot through her wrist. He had grabbed her.
“You’ve been avoiding me?”
