Later that evening, the beach house pulsed with music and laughter, the kind that felt like it could slip into the rhythm of the waves, breaking against the shore and echoing off the cliffs. Jonathan had invited more guests—faces Mira recognized but hardly knew. They were there to admire the view, Jonathan’s wealth, and, of course, his trophy wife.

The infinity pool shimmered under the moonlight, blending seamlessly with the ocean beyond, as if it were swallowing the horizon. People lounged along its edge, sipping cocktails, their voices blending into the balmy night air. It was a perfect scene, curated down to the last detail, yet Mira felt out of place—like a figure painted into the wrong canvas.

She stood near the pool, nerves humming beneath the smooth silk of her cover-up, her eyes scanning the crowd but finding no anchor. She hadn't seen Samuel for nearly an hour, but the memory of his gaze was like a phantom touch—still clinging to her skin. Jonathan, as ever, was absorbed in his own orbit, laughing loudly with some business associate, oblivious to the storm building inside his wife.

Mira craved a moment of solitude, away from the shallow pleasantries and probing eyes, away from Samuel most of all. His presence had shaken her earlier, and though she’d managed to avoid him so far, the weight of his stare lingered like a hand on her back. She needed to get away.

She slipped quietly through the crowd, her heart pounding as she moved toward the garden. The soft glow of lanterns illuminated the path, but Mira kept to the shadows, her pace quickening as she neared the secluded restroom, hidden by ivy and overgrowth. She was nearly there when she heard footsteps behind her.

“Mira.”

The low timbre of Samuel’s voice sent a shiver down her spine. She hadn’t heard him approach, but she wasn’t surprised. Of course,...