"After a threat like that, who'd risk helping him?"
I lost control. I stormed over and grabbed Leila's wrist.
"Is this really what you want? To humiliate me in front of everyone for some pretty boy?"
Leila sneered and whipped her hand across my face.
Crack.
"Yes."
I turned back to her, stunned. Three years of marriage. Three years of being known as the perfect couple. She'd been the one who pursued me when I first came to Capital City.
At our wedding, she'd made vows. Loyalty until death. Love me forever.
And now? Three years. That's all it took. Every promise, every memory—shattered by her cold, calculated cruelty.
People always said live-in husbands had no dignity. The moment a younger, prettier face showed up, the free ride was over.
But Leila never understood. I didn't marry into her family for the Galloways' money. I did it because I loved her.
She pulled out a tissue and turned away, wiping the hand that had just struck me like she was cleaning off something dirty.
"You knew how much I cared about that assistant. But you just had to push."
"Rick, if you can't pay this bill, I'll have the manager strip you naked and march you out of this restaurant."
The room erupted. Laughter. Jeers. Every pair of eyes fixed on me with gleeful contempt.
"She's really going all out—making her own husband walk out naked for the new guy."
"Can you believe it?"
"He won't be her husband much longer. After tonight, he's just another stranger."
"This is too good. Let's just watch."
The older women at nearby tables looked me up and down with amusement.
"Ooh, I want to see if he's got abs under there."
Heat burned across my face.
Before we'd left the house, Leila had taken my wallet. Made me let my guard down.
All I had was this expensive suit on my back. Not a dollar to my name.
And my phone was dead. That's when it hit me—she'd planned every detail.
"Time's running out. The restaurant wants to close, and they're waiting on you to settle up."
"Don't tell me you're broke."
"Because if you can't pay, they'll hold you here and call the police. Sound familiar? You did that to me once, remember?"
Jacob pulled out a cigarette, stuck it between his lips, and lit up.
He made a point of blowing the smoke right in my face. That smug expression pushed me over the edge—my hand shot up before I could stop it, and suddenly the table was a mess of scattered dishes and broken glass.