My blood instantly crystallized into ice.
Mark. Her husband of four agonizingly long years. The man possessing the impeccably polished smile, the thirty-thousand-dollar wristwatch, the aggressively firm handshake, and the smooth, authoritative baritone that commanded immediate trust in executive boardrooms. I had despised him from the moment he stepped into our lives, yet I had never possessed a shred of tangible proof. Emily had always served as his impenetrable shield, armed with an endless arsenal of rehearsed excuses: He’s under immense pressure at the firm. We simply had too much wine. It was a massive misunderstanding. I tripped over the rug, Sarah, I’m so incredibly clumsy. Tonight, the ammunition had finally run dry. There were no explanations left to hide behind.
“He told me I embarrassed him,” she whimpered, the words bleeding through her fingers. “At the charity dinner. In front of his prospective clients.”
I leaned back, my hands gripping the underside of the wooden chair with such feral intensity my knuckles ached.
“Has he done this before, Emily?”
