"Lori!"
"Let me explain!"
I stared at the hand Roger had clamped around my wrist—his ring finger still bearing the wedding band that matched mine. Watching the panic flicker across his face, the fury I'd barely managed to suppress came roaring back.
Before he could get another word out, I wrenched my arm free and swung.
The slap cracked across his face.
"How dare you hit him!"
The woman scrambled up from her seat and shoved me hard, positioning herself in front of Roger like a shield. Her voice was shrill, indignant.
"Who do you think you are?"
"You have no right to touch my boyfriend!"
I looked at her—really looked—and almost laughed. Then I turned to Roger, whose expression had twisted into something complicated. I reached for the napkins on the table, calmly wiped my wrist where he'd grabbed me, and smiled.
"Why don't you tell her?"
My voice was ice.
"Tell her exactly who I am. Tell her whether or not I have the right to slap a dog who can't keep it in his pants."
Roger's face cycled through shock, then confusion, then—as he took in my relentless stare and the woman's defiant posture—something hardened. He stepped in front of her, shielding her from me.
"Lorraine." His jaw tightened. "When it comes to relationships, it takes two to tango."
He pulled the woman behind him. By then, my coworker had caught up and moved to my side. "You need backup?" she muttered.
I shook my head, keeping my eyes on Roger.
"Lorraine." He squared his shoulders. "We were together five years. Married for two. Have you ever stopped to consider how many problems you brought to this marriage?"
He met my gaze without flinching.
"Yes, I built my life in this city because of you. Yes, my success exists because of your connections. But that doesn't give you—or your family—the right to look down on me every single day."
He stepped closer.
"I can apologize. I can come home with you."
His expression flickered with something that might have been struggle.
"But don't take this out on Judy Fox. She's innocent." Even now, he was making excuses for her. "She's young—she can't have her reputation destroyed. Her grandfather is in poor health; he can't handle the stress. Whatever issues we have—"
His gaze slid from me to my coworker, who was glaring at him like she wanted to tear him apart.
"—we can discuss at home."
I listened to him lay it all out so reasonably, every word designed to protect the woman named Judy, and I could have laughed.
Five years together. Three years married.
When Roger first started his company, I'd begged favors from everyone I knew. My parents pulled every string they had. His entire startup fund? My parents had mortgaged their assets to loan it to him.
Back then, whenever Roger mentioned any of this, his eyes would redden with emotion.
"Lori," he'd say. "I owe you everything. For the rest of my life, I'll make it up to you. I'll treat you right. I'll treat your family right."
Now?
Now it was: "Lorraine. Yes, I relied on you. But that doesn't mean you get to let your family look down on me."
I stared at this man I'd loved for seven years. I'd told myself I would handle this calmly, rationally. But hearing him speak, my chest seized so violently I could barely stay on my feet.
Then my coworker's voice cut through the haze, sharp with outrage.
"Un-fucking-believable. So what I'm hearing is you're a textbook gold-digger who climbed your way up using her, and now that you've made it, you've traded her in for a younger model?"
She stepped in front of me, jabbing a finger toward the woman.
"And you have the audacity to make her the villain?"
"You really think you're something special, don't you?"
I watched my coworker advance on the woman, ready to tear her apart.
