Revenge of the Deserted Sinclair Heir

It was supposed to be our honeymoon—a private, luxury retreat in the high dunes of the Mojave to celebrate the life we’d built. But my wife, Maddie, insisted that her younger protégé from her architecture firm, Ethan, come along. She claimed he was burnt out after graduation and needed a "mental health break."

I’d tried to decline as delicately as I could. I told her I wanted us to be alone. I even went behind her back and booked a separate, high-end guided tour for Ethan, Venmoing him five thousand dollars so he could enjoy his own adventure.

He took the money. Then he followed us anyway.