Chapter 84
LEVI
My phone buzzed sharply, the glow of the screen cutting through the dim interior of my car. I flinched, snapped out of my thoughts by the sudden vibration. A message blinked on the screen, taunting in its cruelty:
**Want to marry a slut? Check Sea-Line Hotel and see what I’m talking about. The penthouse suite has a nice surprise for you.**
No name. Just a strange number and a sucker-punch to the gut.
My pulse rocketed. I tapped to call the number back, hands clammy, chest tight.
*Beep. “The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”*
Disconnected.
Of course it was.
I stared at the message again, hoping it would change, praying it was some twisted prank. But no—it sat there on my screen, smug and unrelenting. My breath came shallow. My grip on the phone tightened.
*Sea-Line Hotel. Penthouse suite.*
That was *our* place. Jenna’s go-to whenever she visited New York. Always the penthouse. Always private, always discreet. No one else knew that. Or so I thought.
A trickle of unease slid down my spine.
“Drive to the Sea-Line Hotel,” I said, my voice low and tight.
My driver cast me a quick glance in the rearview mirror, but didn’t question it. He knew better.
The ride was a blur of city lights and suffocating silence. Every red light stoked the fire building inside me.
By the time we pulled up to the grand hotel entrance, my blood was pounding in my ears.
Inside, the lobby was its usual performance of elegance—polished marble, glimmering chandeliers, the faint scent of jasmine and wealth in the air. None of it registered. My mind was fixed on the twenty-fourth floor.
I was halfway to the elevators when I heard it.
“Mr. Levi?”
I turned.
It was one of the staff—young, sharp, polite. The kind of guy who knew when to keep his mouth shut. I’d tipped him more times than I could count for precisely that reason.
He leaned in, voice quiet. “I probably shouldn’t say anything, sir… but she checked in with someone. Not long ago.”
I held his gaze. “Someone?”
He nodded once, eyes shifting away, clearly uncomfortable.
I slipped a folded bill into his hand, and he murmured, “Private elevator’s already in use.”
I didn’t need to ask more.
My hands curled into fists as I approached the private lift. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirrored walls—rigid posture, eyes storm-dark.
When the doors opened on the twenty-fourth floor, the air felt charged. Heavy. The hallway was quiet—unnervingly so.
The penthouse door wasn’t fully shut.
It hung open, slightly ajar.
My gut twisted.
I stepped forward and nudged the door. It gave way with a soft creak, revealing a warm glow from inside. Perfume clung to the air—her perfume. The scent of jasmine and secrets.
A trail of silk led toward the bedroom. Her heels were tossed carelessly near the door, one knocked over like it had been kicked off in a rush.
And then—laughter.
Soft. Familiar. Intimate.
My heart dropped.
I crossed the suite on unsteady legs, and with a hand that barely felt like mine, I pushed open the bedroom door.
Time froze.
Jenna lay sprawled across the bed, hair a dark halo against the sheets, skin glowing beneath the dim amber lights. Her smile lingered, that slow, satisfied curve of someone who didn’t expect to be interrupted.
And next to her—shirtless, relaxed, watching her with a look I couldn’t unsee—was a man I *knew*.
A man I’d trusted.
My stomach turned violently. I staggered back a step.
Jenna’s head snapped toward me, her expression collapsing from pleasure to panic in an instant.
“Levi…?”
Her voice was breathless. Not with desire now—but with dread.
I couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t even look at him. The image was already branded behind my eyes, seared into memory.
“Levi, wait—please, I didn’t mean—” she scrambled upright, clutching the sheets around her.
I stepped back.
One breath. Two.
Then I turned and walked out.
No words.
No yelling.
Just the sound of my footsteps echoing through the suite as everything I thought I knew unraveled behind me.
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