He didn't ask if I'd been hurt. He didn't spare a thought for the child inside me. He simply shoved me aside, pulled Alice into his arms, and murmured to her in a voice so tender it could have cradled glass: "Sweetheart, don't waste your energy on her. Let's go home."
But Alice wasn't finished. She twisted in his embrace and shrieked, "What about that bastard she's carrying?!"
Dustin's gaze drifted over my stomach, light and dismissive, like he was looking at something that belonged in the trash.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of it."
Cold crawled up my spine. Somewhere deep inside me, something shattered.
I braced myself against the wall, coughing so hard that tears streamed down my face. I couldn't tell anymore whether they were from the pain or from the part of me that had just died.
Seven days.
I only needed seven days, and I could leave the man who had turned me into a joke. Leave this city soaked in my grief.
No more silent suffering as Mrs. Delgado. I was going to live for myself.
...
It all happened that morning. Alice used her "Mrs. Delgado" privileges to sweet-talk the hotel manager into handing over my keycard.
She swiped open my door. Before I could react, her bodyguard ripped the thin nightgown off my body. Her manicured nails raked across my face, leaving trails of burning, bloody scratches.
My husband appeared. He didn't help me. He wrapped both arms around that woman and held her tight, making me look like the real intruder—someone who deserved every blow, every insult.
Doors along the hallway swung open one by one. Strangers crowded into their doorframes, pointing, whispering, sneering.
"She deserves it. Homewreckers always get what's coming!"
"Stealing someone's husband wasn't enough—she got knocked up too! Probably trying to use the bastard to climb the ladder!"
Things flew at me. Eggs. Garbage. A half-empty water bottle someone had been drinking from. The sticky liquid dripped down my hair, and I threw my arms over my face, but someone's phone camera was already aimed right at me.
"Look at this, everyone! This is what happens to homewreckers! Let the whole world see this little tramp's face!"
I was being livestreamed.
My half-naked body. The bloody scratches on my face. The desperate way I curled around my belly. Thousands of people watched, cursed, and spat venom.