I glared at him through burning eyes, sick with how unfair it was for my parents.
They'd doted on him. Anything I had, they set aside the same for him—sometimes better.
Hatred flooded my skull. I swung at him again.
This time he stepped back.
I stumbled forward with the momentum, pitching sideways.
A drilling pain shot through my ankle.
He moved to help me up, but Desiree got there first, grabbing my arm.
Her long acrylic nails dug deep into my flesh. I bared my teeth against the pain and shoved her away on instinct.
She let herself fall backward, crying out in a thin, helpless voice.
Her eyes went red, and she sniffled, voice shaking. "Tracey, I know you don't like me. I can leave. I can disappear from your life. But why did you have to push me?"
Conrad frowned, shoved me aside, and pulled her into his arms like she was the one who'd been wronged. "Enough! Tracey Simmons—you hit me, you got it out of your system. Don't you dare take it out on someone who has nothing to do with this."
"If your father hadn't died, I never would've married you. For all you know, you'd be the other woman right now."
That line detonated the crowd: