"Babe, hire someone professional next time. Don't just drag in any piece of trash off the street."
I stood rooted to the spot, ice flooding my veins.
The shirt I'd just ruined was the one Amy had specifically pointed out to me.
It was Dirk's favorite brand.
I stared at the shredded fabric on the ground and almost laughed.
Five years. For five years, I'd skipped buying skincare products just so I could afford his art supplies. My hands were covered in calluses and tiny scars from years of authentication work.
And he'd been living a life of luxury I couldn't even imagine.
Amy walked up to me, looking down her nose like I was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
"Did you hear him? Dirk told you to get lost."
"That dress was eighteen thousand dollars. It's coming out of your paycheck."
I lifted my head and locked my eyes on Dirk's retreating back.
"Dirk, you don't think you owe me an explanation?"
He stopped.
He turned around, his eyes full of mockery.
"Explain what?"
"Explain why I never told you I'm the sole heir to Harding Group?"
"Or explain that these past five years were just a little role-playing game called 'the struggling couple'?"