I struggled to my feet, breath shallow and hands shaking. Just as I braced myself, Arabelle sauntered over.
In a swift, hidden move, when no one was looking, her stiletto heel crushed down on my hand.
A sharp cry escaped me as pain ripped through my fingers. I jerked my hand back, blood already pooling beneath my palm.
But before I could react further, Arabelle suddenly stumbled backward in a dramatic arc right into the towering stack of wine glasses.
The crash was deafening.
Glass shattered. Red wine splashed everywhere. The entire hall seemed to freeze.
“Arabelle!” Jaxon’s voice rang out in panic as he rushed to her side, lifting her from the jagged mess of broken crystal.
Her white gown was drenched in red, the stains vivid and jarring, like blood blooming through silk.
“Arabelle! Are you alright? Say something!” Jaxon’s hands trembled as he brushed the tears from her face. “Someone, call an ambulance! Now!”
But Arabelle didn’t speak to him. Her tear-brimmed eyes were locked on me.
My hand throbbed, bleeding from where her heel had torn skin. But over the noise and chaos, I heard her soft, trembling voice.