"He was so worried about shortchanging me that the very first paycheck he earned, he told you debt collectors took it. The truth? He bought me a designer handbag. Every single time I felt the slightest bit wronged, he'd send people to your door to stage those debt-collection scenes, shake you down, and funnel every last dollar to me for more bags."
"One million eight hundred thousand dollars total. Oh, and a bracelet that wasn't worth much. I tossed it."
My whole body wouldn't stop shaking.
One million eight hundred thousand. That was every cent I'd earned during those years, working myself half to death to pay off Dennis's debts.
At my most exhausted, I'd collapsed right on the assembly line and nearly been dragged into the machinery.
When Dennis found out, he held me and couldn't stop trembling, telling me it was all his fault.
How pathetic that I'd actually patted his back and smiled, telling him I didn't blame him.
It was all a lie.
He'd been lying to me the entire time.
Beryl was still going, still talking: