"Don't touch me!" Emma throws open the bedroom door. Colt freezes on the sofa. Haven is still in her coat, hair off-kilter, laughing like this is a private show. "Emma—" Colt starts, voice slippery. "Get out," she says. Her hand clamps on a silk dress on the chair. "Now." Haven straightens, smile gone as if someone flipped a switch. "Oh, honey. I didn't know—" "You knew," Emma cuts in. "You planned this. You used my trust." Colt stands, hands up like he's defusing something. "It wasn't like that. We were—" "We were in my home," Emma says. "You were supposed to be my fiancé." Haven's laugh comes back, harsher. "Fiancé? Please. You and Colt split last month. Did you not notice?" Emma steps forward. Rain from the cracked balcony spits across the marble floor. She moves with a single breath, slapping the back of Colt's hand hard enough to make the ring clink. He blinks, then swears. "You're insane." "I'm not insane." Emma takes the phone from his pocket, flicks it open, and scrolls. Photos with date stamps. Messages. A ring emoji on Haven's last text to Colt. Haven covers her mouth. "You can't—" "I can," Emma says. She holds the phone like a verdict. "You leave now, both of you. Get out of my suite." Colt shoves her. He doesn't shove hard, but he shoves like a man used to making people move with a look. Emma