"Why are you staring at me like that?" Sullivan asked, his voice tinged with curiosity as he placed the glass of water on the table.
"I'm not staring at you," Dahlia responded quickly, her tone defensive.
Sullivan arched a brow, leaning slightly forward. "Don't lie. Your eyes are practically drilling holes through me, like you're plotting my demise."
"Yes, you are a terrible husband," Dahlia snapped, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. "You promised you'd never leave me, yet here we are—you're plotting to send me back." Her eyes burned with fury. "If you do, I'll hate you forever. Don't expect me to share a bed with you tonight."
Without waiting for a response, she turned sharply on her heel, her steps brisk and determined.
"Clean the table," she instructed Nylie coldly as she passed. "And tell the prince to enjoy his peaceful night's sleep." Dahlia words dripped with sarcasm before she disappeared from her sight.
