"Maybe that's because she was always easy. Didn't Kevin say she only buys lacy lingerie?"
"If she were as innocent as Camille, this never would've happened to her."
Camille. Camille Harding.
I knew that name.
She was Kevin's secretary.
Whenever we talked, he'd mention her without even realizing it. I'd never questioned it. I trusted him.
Now, hearing her name, I watched her tilt her head, her voice soft and syrupy.
"Don't say that. Maybe Millie just... cares more about looking pretty."
"Camille, you're too naive. Not everyone's like you. Some girls are wild behind closed doors."
"Right, Kevin?"
Kevin took a sip of his drink.
He didn't deny it.
The filth kept coming, wave after wave.
My hand trembled on the suitcase handle.
Kevin had introduced me to these people before. Back then, they'd crowded around me too, calling me "sister-in-law" with wide smiles.
Now they sat there inventing the worst versions of me, tearing me apart for sport.
"Alright, that's enough."
Kevin frowned slightly, and something flickered across his face—something that almost looked like discomfort.
Even through the pain splitting my chest open, a tiny spark of hope flickered to life.