Ethan Blackthorn's Point Of View.
The woman's shrieking voice was still ringing in my ears as I stood there, tray trembling slightly in my hands. My face was a masterpiece of panic, wide eyes, furrowed brow, sweat beading on my forehead like I was some clumsy fool.
She cursed, while the red wine bled across her ivory gown. Her feathered mask tilted as she jabbed a manicured finger at me. “Stupid, do you have any idea how expensive this gown is? You have ruined it! This is beyond unacceptable!” Her voice was sharp, entitled, dripping with the arrogance of money.
Of course, expensive. They always thought their wallets made them untouchable.
“I am terribly sorry, ma’am,” I stammered, while my voice was shaking just right. “It was completely unintentional. I didn’t mean to—” I let the w
