Page 148 of Sin

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Laurel

It’s been less than twenty-four hours, and I’m in hell. Not regular hell. Not waiting-at-the-DMV hell. Not accidentally-clicking-reply-all-on-a-company-email hell.

No.

This is personalized, curated, algorithm-fed hell.

The internet is a terrible place.

I remember now why I never check my social media. Social media is not for people with anxiety, complicated morals, and a sudden starring role in someone else’s marital collapse. Jenna’s post has gone viral, probably because her mother added fuel to the fire by going live and telling everyone how terrible Sin is. The comments on the video are vile.

Whoever the whore is who slept with him… shame on you.

I bet she’s ugly and a slut.

Poor Jenna. She deserves better.

That part I agree with. Jenna does deserve better. She deserved a husband who left before he touched someone else. She deserved the truth years ago. She deserved a clean ending instead of this public, messy, humiliating one.

And me?

I don’t know what I deserve. Probably not kindness. Definitely not the way Sin looked at me when I was sick, sitting on my couch with medicine bottles lined up on the coffee table like he could organize my fever into submission.

My phone rings, and I close out of the app before answering Tate’s call.

“Hello?”

“How are you holding up?” he asks.

I let out a small laugh. “Good, I guess. Just getting ready to head into the office.”

He hesitates.

“About that. We think it would be best if you take some time until this settles.”

My blood turns cold.

“If I don’t show up, people are going to know it’s me, Tate.”

“We’ve thought of that, which is why we’re going to say you’re in Amsterdam.”

I blink. “Amsterdam?”

“It makes sense. Post-show follow-ups, retailer meetings, international launch prep.”

“Right. Because nothing says innocent like fleeing the country.”

“Laurel.” His voice softens, and I hate it.

“I’m not being punished, right?” I ask.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“But I’m being told not to come to work.”

“You’re being protected.”