I bore it when I was moved out of our home and left to hide alone in a hotel. I bore it when they appeared everywhere together, playing the loving "husband and wife" for the whole world. I bore it when sneaking a weekend visit with my own husband made me feel like a criminal.
Until today. Alice found out I was pregnant and came at me like a woman possessed, screaming that I was the whore destroying her family. I clenched my jaw and said nothing.
Until her stiletto heel swung toward my belly, and every drop of humiliation I'd swallowed finally detonated inside my chest.
I shielded my three-month bump and snarled, "I'm not the other woman! Dustin and I have been married for three years, and your husband has been dead—"
The words died in my throat. A large hand clamped around it, squeezing until I couldn't breathe.
Above me, Dustin's face was terrifyingly dark.
"I told you," he said, each word bitten off like a verdict, "she is not to be upset. Under any circumstances."
In that instant, I looked at him and realized I didn't recognize him at all.