"Got it."
Blake watched me rise from my seat, something shifting behind his eyes. Then he stepped forward and caught my arm, his voice dropping a few degrees softer. "There's a gala this afternoon. Come with me."
I was about to refuse, but he cut me off.
"It's Fiona's first time at one of these events. You can carry her train and help her look the part."
I froze. It was so absurd I almost laughed.
Then I thought about how little time I had left, and I swallowed whatever words were forming.
Before the gala, Fiona claimed she didn't have a suitable gown.
She went through my closet and, with surgical precision, picked out the most extravagant birthday gift Blake had ever given me—a one-of-a-kind dress valued at six hundred million dollars, along with the matching jewelry set.
She walked in on Blake's arm. I walked behind her, holding up her train. She became the belle of the ball.
The mockery and whispers followed me like a shadow.
"You have to hand it to Vance—he's got his women trained. His wife carries his mistress's dress, and she doesn't make a peep."
"Wife? Didn't you hear? Vance already got his marriage certificate with the little mistress. Theresa Sullivan is just some used-up rag he strung along for ten years. She's nothing."
"How stupid do you have to be to walk away with nothing after a whole decade? Honestly, living like that—worse than a dog—she might as well be dead."
I fled the ballroom and locked myself in the restroom.
That was where I heard someone ribbing Blake outside.
"Blake, Theresa stuck by you for ten years. You really went and got the certificate with that little flower?"
"The girl wanted security. It's just a piece of paper. What difference does it make?"
"What if Theresa leaves? No regrets?"
My heart clenched. Then I heard him laugh, lazy and careless.
"Theresa's entire world is me. Ten years by my side—I've already ruined her for anything else. At this point, she's no different from a dirty old rag."
"I know her too well. Even after I'm done with her, she'll still be standing right where I left her, waiting like a good girl."
The rest of his words dissolved into static.
I walked to the sink and splashed water on my face, again and again, until I bit down hard on the base of my thumb.
I watched the water drip into the basin, mixing with tears I refused to let anyone hear.
Blake Vance, this time you bet wrong.
This dirty rag you threw away won't be waiting for you anymore.
I turned and walked out of the restroom.
A slap cracked across my face before I even saw it coming.
I pressed my hand to my burning cheek and turned, disbelief flooding through me.
Fiona rolled her wrist, every trace of sweetness stripped from her face like a mask torn off. "You heard everything. Blake already married me. And you're still clinging to him like some shameless parasite? Have you no dignity?"
"If you love being some man's free entertainment that badly, go find a street corner."
"Then again, a desperate little freebie who let herself get used for ten years—you're only fit to pair up with the gutter trash in the slums."
A ringing filled my skull. The world narrowed to the woman's vicious face, her mouth opening and closing, spitting poison.
Rage burned through me until it came out as a laugh. But Fiona didn't give me a chance to fight back. She let out a sudden shriek, clawed open the front of her gown, and threw herself backward.
"Theresa!"
The voice behind me was ice.
Blake rushed past me and caught Fiona, pulling her into his arms.
She collapsed against him, sobbing on cue, tears materializing from nowhere. "Blake, I'm the other woman. I'm the one who ruined things between you and Miss Sullivan. It's all my fault. I never should have shown up. I'm the horrible one."
Then she slapped herself across the face. Hard. Twice.
Blake grabbed her hands. His brows trembled. His jaw was tight.
"Who said those things to you?"
Fiona bit her lip, fingers twisting into the fabric of her dress until her knuckles went white. "Please. Don't ask."
But when her gaze swept over me, she shrank back, shaking her head in wide-eyed terror.
