They were wearing them right now. Dennis and Beryl, standing in my apartment, dressed in my pajamas.
My mind went blank. The words tore out of me before I could stop them.
"Dennis! How could you bring her here? You know this is where we..."
I didn't finish. Beryl's hand was already moving. She slapped herself across the face with practiced precision, her cheek blooming red in an instant. She stepped in front of Dennis, eyes brimming with tears, and stared me down.
"Mrs. Sanchez, I just wanted to understand what Dennis's life was like before. I begged him to bring me here." Her lip trembled. "If it upsets you, I'll get on my knees and apologize. Just please stop hurting him."
Dennis looked shattered. He cradled her face in both hands, blowing gently on the mark she'd made herself.
Then he glanced at the bodyguard behind me. One look. That was all it took.
Hands clamped down on my arms. A palm the size of a dinner plate cracked across my cheek. Then again. And again. My ears rang, a high-pitched whine drowning out everything else.
I don't know how long it lasted before they finally stopped and let go.
I crumpled to the floor. Dennis looked down at me, his expression flat, utterly unmoved.
"Vee, why do you insist on making things difficult for yourself? If you're not feeling well, go home and rest. Why chase me all the way here just to start trouble?"
A bitter laugh scraped out of my throat.
"Go home? Do I still have a home? Is that place even mine anymore?"
I looked up at him, eyes burning. Tears and blood from my nose dripped onto the floor between us.
"Dennis, why did you have to bring her here?"
"You can go wherever you want to fool around. I don't care anymore. But why did you have to defile this place?"
"The Dennis Sanchez at thirty is rotten to the core. So why did you have to destroy the only memory the twenty-year-old version of you ever left me?"
Something flickered behind his eyes. A tremor, barely there.
Then it was gone, swallowed by rage.
"Rotten to the core? How am I rotten? Don't forget, Veronica, if it weren't for me, you'd have spent your whole life crammed into a dump like this!"
"And don't forget, the money you used to buy this place came out of my account! This is mine too! I'll do whatever I want with it!"
His fury twisted into a laugh.
"You think I've dirtied this place? Forget dirtying it. I could blow this shithole to rubble and it still wouldn't be any of your business."
He ordered them to drag me out.
They hauled me through the door while men wired explosives to the walls of the old apartment. A few pounds of charges, rigged to the crumbling exterior.
One command. That was all it took.
The building that held the only good memory we'd ever shared collapsed into dust and ash.
Firelight filled the sky. My tears wouldn't stop.
Dennis stared at the wet streaks on my face. The anger drained from his expression, replaced by something cold and distant.
"Veronica. What do I have to say to make you understand?"
"I gave you the title of Mrs. Sanchez. I put you in Bayshore Villa. I let you carry handbags that cost over ten thousand dollars apiece. The clothes on your back right now are couture that ordinary people couldn't afford in a lifetime. Haven't I been good enough to you?"
"You're thirty years old. You're not young anymore. Do you honestly expect me to still be in love with a woman whose looks are already fading?"
"I'm giving you the dignity of being my wife. I'm giving you a life of luxury. All I need is for you to turn a blind eye and make room for Beryl and the child. Is that really so impossible?"
I met his gaze. Every word came out steady and clear.
"No."
"Dennis, you erased everything we had with your own hands."
"I want a divorce."
Irritation and anger bled into his eyes. He looked at me for a long moment, then spoke, his voice flat.
"Divorce? Not a chance. Even if I don't love you anymore, you're still the most important person in my life. I will never divorce you."
