Later that afternoon, Hugo stormed back into the Bennett mansion, his composure long gone. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the fury building inside him.
Anna's defiance still rang in his ears, her words echoing like a challenge he couldn't ignore.
And if that wasn't enough, his wife's betrayal only added fuel to the fire.
He found Rosiline in the sitting room, arranging flowers on the center table. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps, her hands faltering when she saw the expression on his face. Dark, rigid, and simmering with restrained rage.
"Why did Anna come home that day, Rosiline?" Hugo demanded, his voice cold and cutting.
Rosiline froze, the vase in her hand trembling slightly. She'd seen her husband angry before, but this was different. His eyes burned with accusation, his jaw clenched so tightly she could hear the faint grind of his teeth.
"I—I told you," she stammered, forcing a nervous smile. "She said she missed home, so she came—"
