Scarlett’s POV
The chandeliers hadn’t dimmed, the orchestra hadn’t faltered, the laughter of the wealthy hadn’t ceased, yet for me, the world had contracted into a thread stretched taut between David and me.
I could feel it: his gaze like a hook digging into my chest, pulling, pulling, daring me to move first.
I didn’t.
Instead, I tilted my chin ever so slightly, the smallest gesture, one that only he would notice. My way of saying: I see you too. I’m not afraid.
And then, deliberately, I turned away, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing server, pretending to admire the bubbles catching the light. A gesture of dismissal. A calculated insult. You are not important enough for me to acknowledge outright.
But I knew him too well. David would not let that pass unanswered.
From t
