I stopped a few feet away from him.
“You took my place tonight,” I said to Chloe.
She swallowed.
“I didn’t know—”
“Yes, you did,” I interrupted. “You knew I was his wife. You knew I was at home. You sent me photos to make sure I knew you had won.”
Her eyes darted around the room, searching for sympathy and finding none.
I turned to Julian.
“But you were the one who gave her my seat.”
His mouth tightened.
“This is between us.”
“No,” I said. “You made it public.”
Someone near the stage whispered my name.
Not Clarissa Cross.
Clarissa Vance.
The sound moved through the ballroom like a match touching dry paper.
I reached into my small clutch and removed my wedding ring.
Julian stared at it.
For the first time that night, something raw flashed across his face.
Not love.
Possession.
“Don’t,” he said.
