At the same time, Josephine gasps, and the cameraman’s breath hitches behind us.
The room goes still, but I don’t have to turn around to know the camera is on me.
In front of us, on a lumpy blue velvet couch, is Nora Whitfield, exactly where Kristalina knew she’d be, half dressed, on her back, beneath my husband.
I knew it.
In my gut, IknewI shouldn’t have come here today. I knew Azalea and Yvette would bulldoze my boundaries, just like I know—without even checking—the text waiting on my phone holds the truth. I’m alone in this marriage.
The red camera light glares at me.
“Ebony, are you okay, honey?” Josephine cuts through the haze.
The world is waiting for me to react. But the words won’t come.
Every fiber of my being screams at me to lash out, to charge at them for treating our lives like a cheap reality show. I want to scream at Julian—tell him I’m not surprised, just disgusted that he chosethismoment, in front of the cameras, to humiliate me.Humiliate us.And Nora—how could she not see she’s just a pawn, stepping into a life she’s only seen on Instagram and PopShot, desperate to take my place, wear my clothes, hold my title?
But I don’t say any of that.
Instead, I dig deep into my debutante arsenal and smile. “Thank you, Josephine, Kristalina. It was an honor to appear onThe Morning Tea. I sure hope to see you at the gala…”
And just like that, I turn and walk out, not sure if I’m leaving my marriage or just running from the truth.
Chapter One
Déjà View
Ebony
“This is onyourterms,Ebony.” My best friend Whitney plants her hands firmly on my stiff shoulders, leans in from behind me, and whispers in my ear, “We are not letting these bougie, low-vibrational folks define nor destroy your happiness for one more day.”
A small laugh escapes me at her theatrics.
“But do youhearme?” she presses, her tone serious.
I nod, fidgeting with the hem of my blazer. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“Tell me something Idon’tknow.” She sucks her teeth, then guides me farther into the restaurant’s main dining area with a flourish. “You look fine. LBD, blazer, neutral heels, hair laid—basically the recipe forwe out here. Now stop worrying.”
Meanwhile, she’s in a deep V-neck black satin crepe blouse belted around a gold sequin column skirt that pops like pixie dust against her rich brown skin.
As we weave through Velvet Ember’s pristine marble floor toward the bar, my eyes wander to the menagerie of glittering chandeliers, hanging over perfectly set tables like a five-star zoo exhibit. Then to the eerily familiar faces, scattered around. They’ve been watching me since the second I stepped through the door, the low hum of their whispers filling the smoky, savory air. Each one is disdainful, more superior, sharper than the last, cutting through me like a thousand silent judgments.
You don’t belong here anymore,they say.Crawl backinto your hole.
Never mind thatIwasn’t the one caught with my pants around my ankles onTheMorning Tea. Somehow, though, in the court of public opinion—half of it, at least—I’m the viral villain. Julian’s reputation has taken a hit, yes, but I’m the “bad guy” who wouldn’t just forgive the poor, helpless, handsome “good man” who’d clearly wronged me. I’m the woman who dared hire a PI to confirm suspicions of my husband doing dirt.
How was I supposed to know he was doing it withtheLuxe Lady?
The funny part about it is, I still don’t blame Nora. I wasn’t married to her. And yet I exposed the problematic Luxe Lady’sdeeds with a married man. So, naturally, I’m the one who gets publicly criticized and attacked by #TeamNora.
But that’s what today is about.
I may have been down for the last year, licking my wounds, but it’s time to put on my heels again and strut back out there. Tonight, my girls and I are out for Hillary’s younger sister Hailey’s engagement party. She’s marrying Julian’s younger brother, Donovan, so I know they’ll be here. Right now, I’m finally going to face them—on my terms. All I’ve got to do is get through this evening without cracking. It’s the ultimate test.
I pull in a long breath, letting it expand my lungs, before slowly exhaling.
You are Ebony GraceLivingston. You’ve got this.
