champagne, was Victoria Vance-Cross—a corporate consultant I had hosted at multiple company dinners.
Victoria was casually lounging in my pale blue silk robe.
Nobody moved. The air in the room completely died.
Then Julian looked up and caught my reflection in the doorway mirror.
Instead of panic, shame, or guilt… pure annoyance flashed across his face.
“Clara? What on earth are you doing here?”
I stared at him, my voice deadpan and cold as steel. “Coming home.”
Victoria glanced down at the newborn sleeping on my chest, then looked back at me with mild irritation. “I thought you were staying at the hospital until tomorrow afternoon?”
That single sentence hit me harder than the sight of the robe.
I locked eyes directly with my husband. “She knew my medical discharge schedule?”
Julian stood up abruptly, brushing off his trousers. “Clara, stop overreacting. This looks much worse than it actually is.”
