“He deserved it,” I said flatly, clenching my fists, utterly unapologetic.
The crowd instantly turned against me.
They began to think my usual calm demeanor was all just an act—deep down, I was nothing but a violent hypocrite.
Dariel lowered his head and said quietly to Veronica, “I’m sorry, Veronica. This is all my fault.”
“I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn. I must have upset Mr. Miguel. Please don’t blame him.”
He looked so guilty and remorseful.
“It’s not your fault,” she replied gently. “I dragged you into this.”
Then she turned to me, her voice low and humble, “Honey, this is between us. Don’t take it out on others.”
“Today is our daughter’s first birthday. Can’t we just get through the day without drama? I’m begging you.”
Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke.
Her softness.
My aggression.
The contrast couldn’t have been starker.
Naturally, the guests sided with her.
Her father, Franco, took a deep breath and tried to mediate once more.
“Miguel, over the years, you’ve always been hardworking, devoted to the family, and respectful to your elders.”
“There’s no need for things to get this ugly.”
“If you really feel wronged, bring out the evidence. I promise I’ll stand up for you.”