My Husband Gave His Mistress My Dead Grandmother’s Necklace — He Didn’t Know I Kept The Receipts

Part 2

I stared at the heavy green stones resting brightly against Heather’s bare throat.

Brian casually placed his hand near her lower back while he guided her toward the dining area.

I took my designated seat at the very end of the incredibly long mahogany table.

Brenda sat at the head of the table like a wealthy queen surveying her perfectly arranged battlefield.

During the dessert course, Brenda loudly turned the conversation toward the foundation’s latest hospital partnership.

She actually asked me to help them draft some emotional language to secure more desperate donors.

I calmly lifted my crystal water glass and took a very slow sip before answering her.

I told the entire table that I strongly preferred making difficult subjects accurate instead of just emotional.

Brian’s jaw clenched as he hissed across the table, urging me to lower my voice.

Heather widened her innocent eyes and falsely claimed Brenda had told her it was a piece from the family collection.

Craig let out a sharp, forced chuckle, swirling his wine glass too fast while loudly accusing me of turning every room into a courtroom.

I turned to him and coldly replied that there was always plenty of evidence waiting to be found.

I looked directly down the table at Heather and told them they should start with the stolen jewelry.

I stated loudly that it was entirely inaccurate to call stolen property a simple styling choice.

The entire crowded ballroom went completely and utterly silent as Heather’s face flushed bright red.

Brenda slowly set her silver fork down and warned me that I was making a very serious accusation.

Brian stood up so fast that his heavy wooden chair violently scraped against the marble floor.

He leaned across the table and ordered me to stop humiliating the family because of my pathetic jealousy.

I stood up to face him and told him that his own terrible accounting was the real humiliation.

His hand cracked aggressively across my face before I could even finish my sentence.

The sharp sound of the impact echoed endlessly throughout the absolutely massive and completely quiet dining room.

My heavy glass fell to the floor and violently shattered into a hundred tiny pieces.

Brenda dabbed her mouth with a linen napkin, her eyes fixed strictly on the shattered crystal rather than my bleeding lip.

I tasted hot blood instantly pooling in the left corner of my mouth.

Seventy wealthy guests watched me get hit and immediately looked away to protect their own comfortable positions.

I did not raise my trembling hand to wipe the blood dripping down my bruised chin.

I simply stared at the man I had married while his wealthy friends cowardly inspected the expensive floral arrangements.

My phone suddenly began to vibrate repeatedly against the polished wood of the dinner table.

I had received two urgent text messages from Tara confirming that our broadcast was currently live.

I slowly picked up my small evening bag and turned my back on the entire frozen table.

My heart beat with a freezing calm because I knew my career was officially back online.

Brian stood there breathing heavily as fear finally began to replace his sudden burst of anger.

He thought a violent slap would completely silence me, but would he realize the national broadcast had already started?