“Call an ambulance!” he barked. “She’s burned—now!”
My arm throbbed sharply, but his gaze never flicked toward me. In that moment, I ceased to exist. There was only Maria—his priority, his chosen woman.
That realization cut deeper than the burn.
I sat frozen, brushing at my arm instinctively, stunned by how easily I’d been dismissed. A waiter rushed over and noticed my injury.
“Mrs. Corell, are you hurt? Should we—”
Zaldy’s voice cut through the air, firm and absolute as he brushed Maria’s hair back possessively.
“Take care of her immediately.”
The waiter hesitated, unsure. I forced a tight smile.
“I’m fine,” I said quietly. “Please—help her first.”
Zaldy finally glanced at me, irritation flashing across his face.
“If you’re injured, deal with it,” he said coldly. “Just don’t make a scene.”
I nodded once. “I wouldn’t.”
He turned away instantly, guiding Maria toward the waiting ambulance, his body shielding hers as if no one else mattered. Nearby, Gritte scoffed.
“Fantastic,” she muttered. “Night ruined.”
Once they disappeared into the street, the pain fully set in. The waiter returned with a cold compress and placed it gently against my arm.
“This should help, ma’am.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.