Maggie leaned close to my ear and whispered, "Of course I know it wasn't you."
"I posted it myself—so Ernest would hate you, so he'd humiliate you in front of all of them."
"You want to know why I had him bring you here?"
"There's a banquet tonight. All the upper-class families will be here."
"I'm going to make sure every single one of them knows you're a mistress. You'll never recover from this."
I stared at her, eyes wide.
Suddenly Maggie screamed, crying out, "Why did you bite me?!"
Ernest flew into a rage and kicked me in the lower stomach.
He beat me without mercy, as if every scrap of his rage needed somewhere to land.
When he'd finally worn himself out, Maggie's friends swarmed in.
Coffee splashed over my head, dripping down my face. Garbage landed on me—napkins, food scraps, whatever they could grab.
They formed a circle and the screaming started: "You actually think you can latch onto Ernest Sanchez? You? Marry him?"
"Ernest Sanchez is high society. He's Mr. Swanson's guest. What the hell are you?"
"Exactly. Do you even know where you are? This is Phoenix Terrace. A broke nobody like you has no business setting foot in here."