“Oh, don’t be sensitive,” she cooed, looping her arm through mine and lowering her voice. “I just mean… you should take better care of yourself. Look at me!” She twirled, letting her designer dress hug every curve. “Men go crazy for a woman who knows how to keep herself sexy. You should try it sometime.”
My nails dug into my palm.
She leaned in, whispering against my ear like we were sharing a secret. “You used to be so pretty, Dani. But now? You look so… tired. Maybe if you put in a little effort, he wouldn’t get bored so easily.”
The words were like a dagger twisting in my ribs.
She was toying with me. Playing the role of the concerned best friend, all while reminding me—without saying it outright—that she had Reagan wrapped around her finger.
I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat.
I know what you are, Dulcie.
And I won’t forget.
---
An hour later, I found myself in the restroom, gripping the sink, trying to steady my breath.
I needed to leave. I needed air. I needed—
The door creaked open.
I turned, expecting some socialite fixing her makeup. Instead, I was met with Dulcie’s reflection in the mirror.
She smiled and locked the door behind her.
Something in my chest tightened.