“Your mother was weak. She got dumped and died chasing money. Now you’re blaming Piper for it? Everyone here saw what you did. Are you proud of yourself?”
The room around us buzzed with murmurs, growing louder and uglier by the second.
“I heard her mother once stole Mrs. Marks’ jewelry,” one woman whispered, not even bothering to lower her voice. “Rumor is she died during a kidnapping–had her organs missing. Honestly, sounds like she had it coming.”
“And the daughter’s no better,” another voice added with a sneer. “Ungrateful little brat. Just like her mom. Raised to be a man-stealing whore.”
I was still on my knees. I wanted to scream, to tell them they were wrong. That my mother wasn’t a thief. That I wasn’t a man-stealing whore. But my throat was dry. My voice, gone.
Colin’s patience wore thin.
“Apologize, Anneliese. I’ll count to three. One… two—”
Disappointment scorched every cell in my body.
I gave in. My knees slammed onto the cold marble. I lifted my chin—and slammed it down in a bow so hard I tasted blood.
“I’m sorry. I was wrong. I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
Blood mixed with tears blurred my vision.
I looked up with a twisted smile, hollow and bitter.