Someone even sneered, “Sophia, stop pretending. Everyone knows you’ll do anything to climb up to Eric.”
“You served him like a maid—pouring tea, washing his feet—just to marry into wealth.”
“And now your dream is about to come true. Would you really throw it away?”
“My advice: be smart about this. If Eric gets angry, you can kiss your rich life goodbye.”
The one speaking was one of Eric’s so-called brothers.
I turned, eyes blazing with grief and rage. “Eric, is this what you’ve told them about me?”
He cleared his throat and whispered into my ear, “I’m a man. I need to save face in front of my buddies. What’s the problem with that?”
Then he said aloud, “Enough. Today’s a joyous day. Don’t insult Sophia anymore.”
His friends laughed and cheered, pretending to agree.
Meanwhile, the bodyguards forced me onto the stage.
The dog, Blackie, was tied up not far from me, snarling and snapping its jaws like it wanted to tear me apart.
Someone in the crowd joked, “Looks like Blackie can’t wait.”
A group of men snickered obscenely.
I shouted, “Where’s Grandpa Collins? I want to see him!”
From the audience, Eric replied coldly, “Grandpa isn’t well. He won’t be coming today.”