Naya’s head slowly lifted, her tearful expression fading for a fraction of a second as her gaze locked on Isla. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted slightly. She took in the sight of Isla nestled against Lucian, her hand resting on his stomach, the intimacy of their position undeniable.
But what caught Naya’s attention most was the faint mark on Isla’s neck. Her lips twitched almost imperceptibly as if she was trying to suppress a smile. There it was, confirmation of what she had suspected. Yet, instead of jealousy or anger, something more calculating gleamed in her eyes.
She quickly masked her expression, letting her face crumble into one of supposed sorrow and regret. She wiped at her eyes, playing the part of the devastated, misunderstood woman.
Lucian’s patience snapped. His eyes
