He shot the man a look, signaling him to leave.
There was a thin thread of guilt woven into his voice.
"Louisa, that's a buddy of mine from the taxi company. We just finished a night shift together, came back for some tea."
I didn't say a word. The whole thing was almost laughable.
What kind of cab driver wore a designer suit fresh off a department store rack?
I moved toward the bedroom, but a bolt of pain shot through my knee. My leg buckled, and I nearly hit the floor.
Edmund caught me and guided me to the couch. He looked at my swollen, bruised knee with what was meant to pass for concern.
"How did it get this bad? Did that manager give you trouble again?"
He set a container of cheap takeout in front of me, his expression heavy with guilt.
"I'm sorry, Louisa. This is all my fault."
"You never let yourself splurge on this place. Think of it as my anniversary gift to you. Once I've paid off the debt, I'll make it up to you properly."
He wasn't wrong.
Over the years, every dollar I earned either went to Edmund to "pay off his debts" or got spent on Felix—new clothes, tutoring classes, nutritional supplements.
I never spent a cent on myself.