The warmth of his body still clung to the fabric, a stark contrast to the icy humiliation I had just endured.
For a brief second, I looked past him—at Colette.
She was not jealous.
No, her expression was something far worse. Satisfaction.
She stepped closer, her voice laced with innocent regret. "Raph, sorry... I only wanted to hold Nadine’s hand and talk to her, but she rejected me, and the wine—accidentally spilled."
Raphael turned to her, his expression darkening like a brewing storm.
"Then can you explain why she fell?" His voice was lethal.
Colette’s lips parted, but nothing came out.
For the first time, she looked small and weak, like a child caught in a lie.
But before she could scramble for another excuse, someone spoke up—one of her loyal supporters, stepping in to defend her.
"From what I heard, Nadine was the one who started it. She boasted about her night with you to Colette. She was shocked, that’s all."
"Yeah, I would have been shocked too."
"She’s so shameless."
The word stung like a slap, whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear.
I felt Raphael’s grip on me tighten.
Then, his voice, sharp and cold, echoed through the room.
“Who just said that?”
Silence.