Later that afternoon, after several more rounds of drinks, Philip decided to entertain the group by belittling his wife once again to show off for the new neighbor. “I’m telling you guys, if I didn’t take over on Sundays, we’d probably be eating cereal for dinner because Isabella has zero talent for cooking,” he announced while raising his glass.
The men at the table laughed because it was a habit they had formed over the years, and no one dared to contradict the man hosting the party. Inside the kitchen, Isabella stood perfectly still with a wooden spoon in her hand, staring at the floor while the familiar sting of humiliation washed over her.
Dominic placed his fork down on the plate very carefully and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin before standing up to look Philip directly in the eye. The afternoon air was still filled with the scent of coal and expensive meat, but the atmosphere had suddenly shifted into something sharp and tense.
PART 2