Vincent blocked my path, his eyes—that had once gazed at me with tender affection—burning with rage.
"Don't ruin this for me, Lily. Marrying Stacy is the best thing for me. For us," he said, reaching out to touch my cheek. I slapped his hand away.
"I wish you a happy married life, no hard feelings. Now if you’ll excuse me..."
He blocked me again. "Apologize to her. She's my wife, and I refuse to let you disrespect her—"
"This is my house, and I'd be damned if I let you order me around in it," I hissed, all the rage and frustration I felt bubbling up to the surface.
"You think Vincent letting you squat here makes you the owner?" Stacy laughed, her tears nowhere to be found.
Confused, I turned to Vincent, who had a deer-in-headlights look.
Realization dawned on me, and I couldn't hold back my smile. "You told her I'm squatting in your house, Vincent?"
"Stop talking," he growled, too prideful to beg me to stay quiet.
"Why should I?" I challenged him. "Don't you want your bride to know how much her successful husband is really worth...?"
His hand was suddenly in my hair, and I screamed from the pain, causing me to drop my keys.