If only they knew. If only they had realized that behind their backs, I had been quietly selling my designs again. That the same creativity Oliver had once praised, then dismissed, had been my secret lifeline. Piece by piece, sketch by sketch, I had rebuilt something of my own. They thought I was helpless. They thought I was trapped. They were wrong.
Oliver appeared in the doorway, his face twisted in disdain. “And where’s it coming from then, huh? From your man? Are you cheating on me, Candice?”
The accusation slapped harder than any hand. I shook my head, my voice cracking. “No! Don’t you dare accuse me. If anything—you should look in the mirror.”
His hand flew before I could finish. My cheek burned, my head snapping to the side.
“Oliver!” Beatrice’s voice sang out as she rushed forward, her arms stretched as though to protect me. Always the savior. Always the angel in their eyes. “Stop, okay? Let her be. She’s been through enough.” Her eyes glistened with fake sympathy as she reached into her purse. “Here, Candice. Take this.”
She held out a black card. “Buy anything you want. You deserve it.”