Rhett’s POV

Dinner in our house always had this strange weight to it, like the walls themselves listened, like every scrape of a fork against porcelain carried some hidden meaning. Tonight was no different. The dining room chandelier cast its soft light over the table, painting everything gold and sharp, and I could feel the tension even before the first plate hit the table.

Angela sat at the head opposite Sienna’s father—her boyfriend, her partner in this perfect little domestic ...