Chapter 167

The bar was dimly lit and half-empty, just the way he liked it.

Lorenzo sat at the far corner, swirling a glass of whiskey between his fingers. The burn in his throat did nothing to dull the ache in his chest.

His mind kept replaying her words.

I was scared. I didn’t know how to tell you.

And then his own: You’re not the Camila I married.

He wanted to hate her. But the image of her trembling on