The spacious living room echoed with that one sentence.
Molly instinctively glanced at the man casually leaning against the back of the sofa.
His jaw was tight, eyes cold like a storm brewing under the surface.
With a faint curl of his lips, Tristan spoke slowly, "I'm curious—how exactly did you plan out this little drama of yours?"
Tears welled up in Molly's eyes as she bit her lower lip till it turned pale, "I didn't. I really didn't say or do anything."
Megan took a step forward, lowered herself slightly, and hooked a finger under Molly's chin. "Memory that bad already? You're young, you know. Let me jog it for you."
She let go of Molly's chin and straightened up, arms behind her back. "You kept getting in my head, painting Tristan as this possessive, selfish control
