Rose point of view

I stared at my phone screen until the words blurred, reading the same headline for the twentieth time. "ROSE LEWIS: THE PRIVATE LIFE SHE DIDN'T WANT YOU TO SEE." Beneath it, that grainy photo of me entering the London hotel with Jonathan four years ago. His hand on my lower back. My face turned up to his, laughing at something he'd said.

How? How had anyone found this? I'd been so careful.

My boutique office, normally ...