(Violet’s POV)
The room gasped as if I’d screamed.
Wine soaked my gown in a violent splash of red across white silk. The chill hit instantly, and the ruined fabric clung like betrayal. Thin. Exposing. Vulnerable.
And worse—
The scar.
That twisted, cruel branding at the back of my neck, usually hidden by my high collars and careful posture, now sat fully bared beneath the ballroom lights. A mark not of love, but rejection. Brutal. Final.
I straightened, dripping and exposed, heart pounding but spine steel-straight.
The silence after my scar was revealed didn’t last long. It cracked and fractured under the weight of stares and whispers.
Ronan stood beside me, lips parted, as if still trying to catch up with what the crowd already understood. His hand didn’t reach for me. He didn’
