But I never imagined those words concealed something so filthy underneath.
Before I could speak, the front door swung open and Sandra walked in.
"Fighting again? Tristram, what did you do to upset Angie this time? Let me straighten you out!"
Her villa was right next to ours. The slightest noise carried between them.
She grabbed Tristram by the ear and hauled him toward the couch.
"Cut it out." He reached up to resist, caught her wrist, and pinned her down against the cushions.
The same two words. From the same mouth. But the tone was nothing like the one he used with me.
"Oh, so you're rough with the ladies now? Let me show you rough!"
The instant Tristram's body pressed against Sandra's, he went rigid.
His cheeks flushed a deep red. He shoved himself up and bolted for the bathroom.
"Angie, I'm so sorry. I had no idea he'd react like that. You know how men are, they just can't control it. Nothing anyone can do." Sandra turned to me, her eyes brimming with a provocation she didn't even bother to hide.
"Sure there is," I said. My face was blank. "Cut it off."
The sound of running water came from the bathroom. Tristram emerged moments later.
"Angelica, seriously? Can't even take a joke?"
A joke?
A cold laugh scraped out of my throat. "Let's break up. Right now. Then you're free to find someone who can take your jokes."
"Angelica, say 'break up' to me one more time. I dare you." His lip curled. "You're used goods. A cheap little tramp no man would touch. Who else would have you besides me?"
The words left his mouth like a blade dragged across my sternum, splitting me open while I was still breathing.
A beat of silence passed. Only then did Tristram seem to register what he'd said.
"That's not what I meant. Stop making a scene. Your sister's right here. At least give me some face."
He reached for me. I stepped back. Then again. Out of his reach.
Sandra drifted toward me, one slow step at a time. "Angie, don't be like this. Getting so worked up out of nowhere, throwing a tantrum at Tristram. Did you happen to see something you shouldn't have?"
She said it on purpose.
"Come on, stop sulking. Come with me." She extended her hand to take mine.
"Don't touch me!"
The shout tore out of me before I could stop it. I swung my hand up to knock hers away.
But the moment my hand came down, she leaned her face into its path.
I'd barely used any force. Yet the slap rang out, sharp and crisp, and Sandra crumpled to the floor.
The next second, her fiancé Rodney burst through the door and backhanded me across the face.
The blow sent me tumbling down the staircase.
Rodney seized Tristram by the collar like a man possessed and drove his fist into his jaw. "This is how you protect Sandy? You think you can steal her from me? You're not even worthy!"
He didn't hesitate. Not for a single second. He dragged their affair right out into the open.
Tristram dropped the act just as fast. He swung back, and the two of them locked together in a brawl.
"If Angelica had an ounce of sense, would I have to work this hard? Playing the loving fiancé every single day. You think I'm not exhausted?"
One sentence. That was all it took to nail me to a pillar of shame, as though every bit of this was my fault.
Sandra lay on the floor and shot me a taunting smile. Then she let out a single cough.
Both men froze. They released each other instantly and rushed to her side.
"Sandy, where does it hurt? I'm taking you to the hospital right now!"
Rodney ran outside to pull the car around. Tristram scooped her into his arms and charged out the door without so much as a backward glance.
A bitter laugh slipped from my lips. Only then did I notice the taste of iron flooding my mouth.
That backhand had been vicious. I was spitting blood.
But it wasn't just the blood. The edge of the stair had been razor-sharp, and it had carved a deep gash into my thigh.
