Love Beyond the Mask by Adelaide Sinclair

Whitney glanced back over her shoulder, her lips curled in a smile that never reached her eyes. "Felix, I've always treated you well, haven't I? Meddling in people's marriages is dangerous business-you get that, right?"

Felix just stared, caught off guard. He mimed zipping his lips shut. "Alright, alright, you win, boss lady. I'm not crossing you."

"Good. You're done for the day." Her smile warmed, brightening her whole face.

She was gorgeous, and her moods flipped in a heartbeat-Felix could only stand there, speechless.

Mr. Lippert had told Felix to keep trying to "talk some sense into Ms. Valentine," but at this point, Felix was officially out. He shook his head and beat a hasty retreat.

At the door to Parisa's hospital room, Whitney peeked inside. To her surprise, her dad was still there.

A flicker of hope lit up in her chest. But then she saw Hudson picking up his coat from the sofa-he was about to leave. She hurried over and knocked on the door. "Dad? Mom?"

Parisa was propped up on the bed, but didn't react to the sound of Whitney's voice. Her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks; her beautiful face was frozen in thought.

her mom, Whitney

gentle as ever, glanced at Parisa and raised a finger to

stopped in her

brow furrowed, his gaze lingering on the woman by the bed. Finally, he let out a quiet,

I should get going

After

fell as he took a slow breath. A faint smile touched his lips as he nodded in return. Slinging his suit jacket over his arm, he stepped out into the hallway, closing the door gently

door, then hurried to catch

I could piece together about what really

look so... heavy-hearted?" Whitney

then, none of it was easy. None of it was happy," Hudson said with a bitter laugh, his voice low and rough. "She said she wanted the truth she could make peace with the past. I was just the

and check on her, okay? And,

written all over her

for a brief moment—like a firefly on a summer night, lighting up everything. But he still couldn't

to have them dashed again—it was the