Three years ago, when we'd moved into this house, Blake had held me in his arms with red-rimmed eyes.
"Tessa, this is our home now. You, me, and our children."
But now, the man who'd promised me a home—
Three years later, on this day, he was throwing me out of it.
"Tessa, my wife isn't happy. I don't want to say it twice."
There was a smile on his face, but the low edge of his voice carried an unmistakable warning.
My throat felt stuffed with something sodden and bitter, like waterlogged cotton.
Through the haze, it hit me: he wasn't joking.
After a long silence, under the weight of his smug certainty that he'd already won, I nodded. My voice was barely there.
"Got it."
Blake watched me rise from my seat, something shifting behind his eyes. Then he stepped forward and caught my arm, his voice dropping a few degrees softer. "There's a gala this afternoon. Come with me."
I was about to refuse, but he cut me off.
"It's Fiona's first time at one of these events. You can carry her train and help her look the part."
I froze. It was so absurd I almost laughed.
Then I thought about how little time I had left, and I swallowed whatever words were forming.
Before the gala, Fiona claimed she didn't have a suitable gown.
She went through my closet and, with surgical precision, picked out the most extravagant birthday gift Blake had ever given me—a one-of-a-kind dress valued at six hundred million dollars, along with the matching jewelry set.
She walked in on Blake's arm. I walked behind her, holding up her train. She became the belle of the ball.
The mockery and whispers followed me like a shadow.
"You have to hand it to Vance—he's got his women trained. His wife carries his mistress's dress, and she doesn't make a peep."
"Wife? Didn't you hear? Vance already got his marriage certificate with the little mistress. Theresa Sullivan is just some used-up rag he strung along for ten years. She's nothing."
"How stupid do you have to be to walk away with nothing after a whole decade? Honestly, living like that—worse than a dog—she might as well be dead."
I fled the ballroom and locked myself in the restroom.
That was where I heard someone ribbing Blake outside.
"Blake, Theresa stuck by you for ten years. You really went and got the certificate with that little flower?"
"The girl wanted security. It's just a piece of paper. What difference does it make?"
"What if Theresa leaves? No regrets?"