"And I'd love to know when exactly I went to prison."
I couldn't help but laugh. Stanley's supposed prison stint was something from my previous life, when I'd been nearly thirty. He'd been convicted of excessive self-defense while saving someone.
And besides...
My voice went cold. "Mr. Henson, you've got something else wrong too. The one who's allergic to red wine isn't me. It's the woman standing behind you."
"You've shielded her from drinks so many times. Don't tell me you've already forgotten."
Eugene's face cycled through shades of white and red.
I didn't bother with him any further. I grabbed Stanley's arm and we left.
The moment I got home, a text from Sylvia lit up my phone.
"Rose, could you please stop being so shameless? You're broken up. Stop throwing yourself at other women's men."
I scoffed and ignored it.
But the next morning, as I stepped outside for work, someone threw a bucket of filthy water right in my face.
"Disgusting tramp!"
By the time I'd cleaned up and rushed to the office, the project team was in shambles. The office had been ransacked. My colleagues sat around looking shell-shocked.
"Rose, clients are canceling their contracts left and right!"