Then I thought about how little time I had left, and I didn't argue.
Before the gala, Florence claimed she had nothing suitable to wear. She went through my closet and took the one-of-a-kind gown and matching accessories I'd worn when I debuted as Mrs. Stephens at Noel's company IPO.
She walked in on Noel's arm, wearing my dress, while I trailed behind holding her train. Every eye in the room was on them.
The whispers followed me like shadows.
"You have to hand it to Stephens. Got his wife trained so well she carries his mistress's train without a peep."
"They call her Mrs. Stephens, but let's be honest, she's a glorified servant. Lower than a dog."
"That Brooklyn must be an idiot. Gave him over twenty years of her life and got nothing for it. Might as well be dead."
I fled the ballroom, desperate for the restroom, for anywhere I could breathe.
A slap cracked across my face before I even saw it coming.
I pressed my hand to my burning cheek and stared at the woman in front of me.
Florence rolled her wrist, and the gentle mask she wore peeled away like dead skin.
"Noel and I did all that right in front of you, and you're still clinging to him like a leech. Have you no shame?"