POV: Zina
The knock at the door wasn't surprising; I'd been expecting a delivery. Asher's new schoolbooks had been delayed for days, and I had spent the morning waiting to sign for them. But when I opened the door, my stomach clenched.
Standing there, dressed as though she'd stepped out of a fashion magazine, was Trina.
And she hasn't changed a bit.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Her sharp cheekbones and meticulously styled hair glistened in the sunlight. Her lips were painted a bright red, her eyes hidden behind oversized sunglasses that she slowly removed, revealing a piercing stare.
"Zina." Her voice was sugary but laced with badly hidden spite.
I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the woman who thought stealing my husband was a promotion. I see you have removed the devil's thorns on your head."
Her painted lips twitched into a tight smile. "I see you haven't changed."
