The party grew livelier as the night went on. Music rose. Laughter spilled. Glasses clinked. Waiters moved through the crowd with trays of food that looked more like art than sustenance.
Leah tried repeatedly to corner Ryan.
At the bar.
Near the staircase.
By the balcony doors.
Each time, he disengaged calmly.
“Excuse me, Mother,” he would say, tone pleasant, eyes cold. “My wife is waiting.”
Or,
“This isn’t the place for that conversation.”
Or simply,
“No.”
He never raised his voice.
Never snapped.
He just… refused.
Eve remained proudly at his side, visible, unyielding. Not an accessory. Not a shadow. A choice.
Leah couldn’t hide the hatred she felt for her.
At one point, Leah finally managed to catch them alone near a small alcove, away from the main crowd.
“If I hadn’t g
