ELIJAH'S POV
I stared at the newspaper spread across my kitchen counter, my hands shaking with rage. The headline screamed back at me like a slap to the face: "Trouble in Rossi Paradise?" Below it was that damning photograph of Deborah with some man, their bodies pressed together in an embrace that left nothing to the imagination.
My phone buzzed against the marble countertop. I snatched it up and dialed the number I had memorized years ago.
"Thompson," the voice answered on the second ring.
"What the hell is this?" I shouted into the phone, my voice echoing through the empty kitchen. "Why wasn't I told about this? Why wasn't this killed before it hit the stands?"
"Mr. Rossi, calm down. It's news, and we carry news."
"News?" I slammed my free hand down on the counter, sending the salt shaker clattering to the floor. "This is my family you're destroying! My wife! My daughter! My business!"
"I understand your concern, but—"
