I turned around—blood was streaming down her back. She’d clearly been slashed by something sharp.
I had barely taken two steps when a hand clamped around the back of my neck and yanked me back.
“Sheryl. Apologize to her!”
The next second, a kick landed squarely on my knee.
I dropped to my knees, my forehead hitting the ground hard in front of Julia.
“To think I actually believed you were being kind for once. Turns out it was just another trick." Owen sneered then continued, "What did you do to the lingerie?”
“She’s hurt because of you! Aren’t you going to apologize?”
Blood had already soaked through her evening gown. Julia shivered uncontrollably in the cold wind.
I shifted numbly, positioning my forehead directly in front of hers, then bowed again with force.
“I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d apologized.
I had to apologize for not delivering lingerie fast enough to Owen’s mistresses.
I had to apologize for not handing him a condom in time.
I had to apologize for using the wrong brand of body wash on his lover.
Any shred of dignity I once had had been shattered over these past eight years.
The guests around us laughed louder.