The Exiled Wife's Secret Double Life

minating a long mahogany table set with an elaborate, silver-platter American breakfast. The smell of freshly brewed espres

ic cutting a striking silhouette against the opulent background. Her deep chestnut hair was pinned up into a sleek, immaculate twist, leaving her neck exposed, and her low heels clicked again

lar forearms and the faint, silvery scar on his shoulder-a permanent reminder of the night she had nearly killed him. Dark circles

elain mug. He looked up, his gaze sweeping over her professi

elina said evenly, not bot

he house. Instead, she walked to the opposite end of the ten-foot table, pull

ly adjusted to expose the faint, manufactured red marks on her collarbone. She looked up at Evangelina with a smug, victorious gleam in her eye

entire display incredibly tacky, like watc

s, bacon, and delicate French pastries. She took a small, deliberate bite, wiped her fingers

s evening, I'd like to sit down and discuss the finalization of our divorce papers. My lawyer has already drafted the terms. I'm as

ed into the quiet dining

ntire morning preparing for a catfight, ready to defend her territory and prove her dominance. She had never, in h

nched into a fist. The knuckles turned bone-white. His gray eyes darkened to the color of violent thunderclouds,

as already standing up. She checked the silver watch on h

d casually, as if she were discussing a grocery list r

l and walked briskly

d. He rushed forward, holding a covered silver cloche. "Ma'am! P

. Enjoy it yourself," Evangel

Evangelina stepped out into the crisp morning air, hailed a waiting town car, and headed t