Roman was right.
This was a mistake, he had made a mistake. How could he do this to me? How could he sit there next to her and pretend like nothing was wrong.
The smug bastard.
I never wanted to be the other woman. I watched my mum suffer for all my father’s infidelities. He wasn’t just a terrible dad, he was also a terrible husband.
I was sitting at the far end of the long, polished mahogany table situated at the center of the room, draped in a fine white linen cloth. It stretched nearly the length of the room, its smooth shining surface reflecting the flicker of candle flames and the heavy crystal glasses that lined the table.
Sharp edges of silverware laid beside each porcelain plate, flickering whenever the sunray hit them at just the right spot. The chairs were equally grand, hig
