Devon stared at the email like it might change if he blinked long enough. But it didn’t. The message from Micheal was still there, the subject line cold and brutal: THE BIG ONE. He sat in the parked car, the engine off, street sounds muffled beyond the windshield. The P*F stared back at him from his phone screen, its contents still sinking in. Celeste wasn’t just a reporter with a nose for scandal—she was a predator. And worse, she had been circling Damian long before any of this came to light. She was at the diner that same night they had met. That same place. His grip tightened around the phone. A chill settled deep in his chest, one that had nothing to do with the spring air outside. Devon swiped back to the image in the report. Celeste in a trench coat, barely lit by the hotel entrance. Then the still from the gas station’s security footage—her car, unmistakably hers, just yards from the diner. He closed his eyes, and for a flicker of a moment, he was back in that memory. Da
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