She was a chief financial officer arriving at the scene with six months of documented evidence under her arm, and the only thing the affair had changed was her willingness to open the folder she had already, without quite admitting it to herself, prepared.

“Linnea — sweetheart, this isn’t what it looks like,” Dorian said, his voice trembling.

She looked at him without blinking.

“Really, Dorian?

Then explain what you’re doing at two in the morning, in an ER, after a crash on a road you swore you’d be a hundred miles from, with my brother-in-law’s wife in the passenger seat.”

Silence.