My Professor's Dirty Little Secret
Her sharp gaze landed immediately on Sloane, wide-eyed and sitting up in my bed wearing my shirt.
Her lips curled into a cruel, disbelieving smile. “Well,” she said slowly. “I see you’ve moved on.”
Sloane’s blood ran cold. “I—I’m sorry, who—”
“I’m his wife,” the woman interrupted, voice dripping with venom.
My jaw tightened. “Ex-wife,” I snapped, standing between them. “And you don’t belong here, Vanessa.”
But the damage was already done.
Sloane’s face went pale. Her stomach twisted. “Wife?” she repeated weakly, her throat closing around the word.