Anthony deleted the recording, then shoved me backward.
"Don't push your luck, Vivienne."
"She's not wrong. You're nothing but dead weight I've been feeding out of charity. The fact that I was willing to marry you at all should've had your ancestors weeping with gratitude."
"Bianca has real potential. Going public with her means shared resources, mutual growth. You? All you've ever done is fetch coffee and run errands like hired help. What else are you good for?"
"You kept pressuring me to go public, and for what? To feed that pathetic little ego of yours?"
He looked down at me, contempt etched into every line of his face.
"I don't even need to check. That post you deleted was you bragging to your friends about landing a celebrity boyfriend, wasn't it?"
"What's the matter, got a sudden attack of shame?"
"Vivienne, know when to quit. I'll buy you another ring. But if you keep making a scene, don't blame me when I call off the wedding for good."
A dull ache spread through my chest.
Four years. Four years of giving him everything I had.
And in his eyes, I was nothing more than a vain, useless hanger-on.
But Anthony was wrong.