Alaric’s POV:

My phone buzzed with incoming messages. Even before I took it out of my pocket, I already knew what the messages would contain.

Dirt.

Dirt on the waiter who thought he could be smooth with my wife and sneak her his phone number with those damning words—No marriage is ever that serious.

That still burned my chest whenever I thought about it.

Just tossing the receipt into the trash wouldn’t have been nearly enough—I’d soaked it in vodka and watched the ink fade away ...