weren’t his.
They were heels.
Click. Click. Click.
From beneath the bed, I watched a pair of silver shoes cross the room.
I immediately recognized them.
Vanessa.
My mother-in-law.
“Monica, I’m already in the suite,” she said, tossing her phone onto the bed and turning on the speaker. “Ethan’s still downstairs. That girl is probably scrubbing off her cheap continue reading …