I grasp the envelope with trembling fingers, aware my entire house of cards is about to crumble.
Bitsy blots her mouth with a napkin and motions toward me. “Go on, open it.”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Braden growls, glaring at her across the table.
“Open the envelope, Mina,” my aunt demands.
I slide out a few photos of Braden at a bar with another woman. Most are innocent enough—except for the last two. Those, with his hands on her ass and their mouths fused in a heated kiss, leave little to the imagination.
And just like that, our ruse is uncovered.
Braden’s face drains of color when he sees the photos. “How did you get those?”
“It’s far more important that I did, don’t you agree? You claimed to be together for the last several months. Well,” Bitsy states, pointing to the time stamp on the photos, “these are from only six weeks ago.”
“Fuck,” Braden mutters under his breath, averting his gaze to the floor.
“I’m sure you and this woman were doing just that six weeks ago, weren’t you?”
“Aunt Bitsy?—”
“I’m not speaking to you, Mina.”
I shrink back, alarmed by my aunt’s raised voice. She never shows anger, but right now, she’s livid.
What a disaster.
Sucking in a fortifying breath, I prepare to disclose the truth of my relationship with Braden.
He beats me to it.
“What do you want me to say? That I’m a bastard forstepping out on Mina? That I don’t deserve her? You’re right on all counts.”
My jaw slackens at Braden’s admission, and I motion to him, desperate to understand why he’s accepting blame for something he didn’t do.
But Braden lifts his hand in my direction, and I fall silent.
Once again, he’s saving me—by sacrificing himself.
Bitsy shakes her head, her nails drumming out a battle hymn against the polished wood table. “What a pathetic excuse you are for a man, and what a disgusting choice for a husband.”
My aunt aims all the anger she still holds for my mother and late father at Braden, and she is nowhere near done spewing ugly sentiments.
She’s just getting started.
“I knew the second I laid eyes on you that you would ruin my niece—and you have. Everyone knows what you two did last night. You’ve destroyed her reputation, and for what? A bit of late-night fun? What is it with you low-class hoodlums that you must sully our beautiful girls?”
A cracking sound splits the silence as Braden fractures the chair with his bare hands.
I’ve never seen Braden this incensed before.
And I can’t let him take the fall for me. “Aunt Bitsy, I know about the woman. I don’t care.”
Her gaze widens as she looks at me. “Be serious, Mina. You can’t marry a philanderer. He’ll only do it again and again.”
In truth, the only philanderer is Bitsy’s late husband—a man notorious for his long-standing affair with his secretary.
“She’s right, Mina.” Braden’s voice is calm now, as if resigned to his fate.