I didn’t answer. My heart wasn’t calm. It was burning with hurt, rage, and sorrow.
I turned back to him. Without hesitation, my hand shot forward.
CRACK.
The sound of my palm meeting Gareth’s cheek cut through the hallway like a gunshot, louder than the music from the ballroom, louder than Gwyneth’s dramatic gasp.
Gareth didn’t flinch. He froze, the red mark blooming across his skin. His jaw clenched. I leaned closer, my voice low, shaking, venomous.
“Who the hell are you to decide my worth?” I hissed.
“Who gave you the right to judge me and then call me… that?”
My voice broke, but I didn’t.
“A whore? Really? After everything I gave you… after every time I protected you… you humiliate me like this?”
For a moment, his eyes shifted, a flicker of guilt passing across them. He wanted to speak, but I wasn’t done.
“Out of everyone who has ever hurt me… you?” I whispered bitterly, stepping closer, breath trembling.
“You are my greatest regret. Even a dog doesn’t bite the hand that feeds it. But you… you are worse than a dog.”
“This house was never safe. The woman you chase… you don’t even know her. Yet you follow her blindly, a fool who will never understand until she drags you into hell herself!”