"I’m not like you, sister-in-law. You’re the real star of the show now. So many people lining up just to be near you!"
My fists clenched tightly as the image of that schedule on Alaric’s phone flashed through my mind again. A lump of nausea rose in my throat.
"I’m not feeling well. I’m going home," I muttered, already turning to leave.
I felt stripped bare in this crowd, exposed to their leering eyes and veiled laughter. Humiliation tightened around me like a noose—I just wanted to disappear.
But before I could step away, Calla blocked my path with a look of faux innocence.
"Oh dear, did I upset you? If it’s my fault, then I apologize..."
She pouted slightly, clutching a glass of champagne, her voice full of affected grievance.
Alaric stepped in immediately, snatching the glass from her hand.
"You're on your period, you shouldn’t drink," he said gently.
Then, without hesitation, he turned and held the glass out to me.
"Seraphine, I’ve let go of the past—you forcing Calla to leave for abroad—but this is her celebration party. Who are you trying to humiliate with that face?"
"Drink this. Apologize. Move on."
I stared at the glass, my heart pounding in my chest.