So that was it. He just wanted to keep me tucked away where no one could see—his hidden woman on the side. And who knew how many others there were.
I let out a bitter laugh. "And if I refuse? What if I tell Zelda Harding everything?"
Every last trace of pretense left his face.
"Know your place, Willow."
"A girl from some dirt-poor mountain village—how exactly do you see yourself as my wife?"
"Don't make a scene in front of Zelda. It won't look good for anyone."
I had laid every ugly, painful thing about my family bare for him, and now he was throwing it back in my face. He had never once looked at me as an equal. Not from the very start.
I wrenched my arm free with everything I had, so hard he stumbled back a step.
The red marks his grip left on my arm burned, but the cold inside me was worse.
I wiped the tears from my face. The shattered look in my eyes slowly steadied into something still.
"You're right. I come from the mountains. My family is poor. I'm not worthy of the richest man's only son, and I'm certainly not worthy of being Mrs. Simmons."
Each word fell separate and deliberate, quiet but absolutely sure.
"But I'm not cheap enough to be your mistress in the shadows."