I turned toward Archie, forcing my voice into something even. "Archie, I'm sorry. I lost my temper. If you want to hit me back, go ahead."
Archie lit up like he'd just won the lottery. He grinned and reached out like we were old college buddies.
"Troy, come on now," he said with that fake charm. "We're classmates, right? Just a misunderstanding. Why would I ever hit you?"
He leaned in close, his lips nearly brushing my ear—his breath stank of smug.
"What a weakling!" he sneered, "You even brought your brother, Gerard, just to put on a little show for me? If you don't want the divorce, just say it."
He chuckled softly.
"Let me make it real simple for you. Margaux told me, clear as day, that if I'm willing to take her back, she'll never lay a hand on you again. You were just a warm body—a bed-warmer. You're useless now. You want to know why she never spent a dime on you? Because she promised me her money would only go to the man she loves. And you? You don't even come close."
It hit like a gut punch.
My lungs tightened, and for a second I couldn't breathe. My chest burned and my hands trembled, but I kept still.