Susan stared at Manuel, her mind a static-filled void. The line between reality and the feverish, shameful dreams she’d been having lately had completely dissolved. She felt like she was underwater, moveing through a thick, intoxicating haze.

"Don't you want some?" Manuel asked, his brow furrowed.

She had been pleading for water, but now that he had brought the glass, she didn't touch it. She only stared at him with an eager, raw desire that made Manuel swallow hard. He could feel the temperature in the room rising, the air thickening with a magnetic pull he couldn't resist.

Driven by a sudden, desperate impulse, Susan sat up and leaned forward. She pressed a hot, lingering kiss against his Adam’s apple—a gesture she had rehearsed a thousand times in her sleep.

Manuel froze. The cool glass of water in his hand felt like ice against his skin compared to the fire of her lips. He remained motionless as she licked and kissed the sensitive skin of his throat, his silence acting as a silent permission. Susan, emboldened, buried her face in his neck, her hands tangling in his hair as she sought more.

The room was a powder keg. Susan was the spark, and Manuel was the fuel. She sank to her knees in front of him, looking up into his eyes. She saw the reflection of her own hunger there, a mirror of the night she had lost her virginity to him. That night had been a blur of drugged confusion, but her body remembered the satisfaction, the way he had known exactly how to unravel her.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she leaned toward his perfect, thin lips. But just as she was about to close the distance, a large hand covered her mouth. She kissed his palm instead, the friction only heightening her arousal.

"Who am I, Susan?" Manuel’s voice was a low, strained rasp.

He remembered the last time she was drunk; she had mistaken him for a phantom, a generic outlet for her loneliness. He refused to be a placeholder again. He had broken every professional and personal rule for her, but he wouldn't let her use him to conjure another man's name.

Susan stared at him, her lips parting against his palm. She felt the callouses on his hand, the heat of his skin. She knew exactly who he was.

"Manuel," she whispered against his skin.

The name was a key. Manuel’s resolve, which had been seconds away from prompting him to walk out the door, shattered completely. If she had said Henry’s name, he would have vanished. But she had called for him.

He pulled his hand away, his gaze dropping to her mouth—red, swollen, and inviting as a blooming rose. He lowered his head, capturing her lips in a passionate, desperate kiss that tasted of years of suppressed longing.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The thunderous roar from the doorway hit them like a physical blow. Susan shivered, her eyes snapping open in terror as Manuel broke the kiss.

Henry stood there, his eyes blazing with a murderous, jagged light. Before Manuel could even stand, Henry charged forward and landed a heavy punch squarely across Manuel’s jaw. Manuel didn't dodge. He took the blow, a silent admission of the moral high ground he had just surrendered.

"Henry! No!" Susan cried, scrambling to grab his arm as he raised it for a second strike.

"Get off me!" Henry snarled, shoving her back with a fury she’d never seen. Susan lost her balance, hitting the floor hard.

Manuel’s face went stone-cold, his fists clenching as he moved to shield her, but Susan’s sob stopped him.

"Please! Just stop!" she wailed, the reality of her betrayal crashing down on her.

She was a cheater. She was the "shameless woman" she had spent her life despising. She looked at Henry, then at Manuel, her heart breaking for two entirely different reasons.

"I'm sorry, Henry," she choked out.

Henry let out a jagged, mocking snort. "I'm sorry? Susan, you are the most shameless, pathetic woman I have ever met."

Susan bit her lip until it bled, the tears blurring her vision. He was right. She had planned to leave him, had dreamed of this moment, yet she had been too cowardly to do it the right way.

"Let's just break up," Susan whispered.

The words she had been choking on for months finally tumbled out, born of absolute shame. She couldn't face him anymore. She couldn't pretend.

"Break up?" Henry laughed, the sound bordering on manic. He had spent months manipulating her, using his "weakness" to keep her bound to him, and now, in one moment of genuine betrayal, she had finally found the "courage" to end it. He looked at her with pure venom. "You think it's that easy?"