Amber’s face twisted with rage. “Don’t you dare lie to me! That’s Darren’s car—my fiancé’s sports car!”
The crowd gasped. Whispers rippled through the room.
“I knew Darren was seeing someone behind my back,” Amber spat. “But I didn’t think it was you, bitch! You shameless tramp! Driving his car to my wedding? Are you here to taunt me?”
That was it. I couldn’t keep quiet anymore. I straightened up, locking eyes with Amber. “Amber,” I said, my voice steady, “you might want to think carefully before making accusations you can’t back up.”
Her nostrils flared. “Accusations?! You’ve been sneaking around with Darren behind my back, haven’t you? Admit it!”
I took a slow, deep breath, ignoring the murmurs around me. The crowd was hanging on every word like they were watching a reality show.
“Amber, is that really Mr. Herault’s car?” someone gasped, voice full of disbelief.
Amber just smirked, chin up in that smug way she always did when she had something to flaunt. “Of course, it’s his!” she said, acting like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why would I lie about something so clear? It's my Darren's car!”