Vincent and the staff watched curiously as tension simmered between the two women. Evelyn sat composed, but her eyes glinted with a quiet determination. Annabelle, on the other hand, tried to maintain a gracious smile, but the nervous glint in her eyes betrayed her discomfort.
"Why do you always have to pick on her?" Vincent's voice cut through the silence, his disapproving scowl directed at Evelyn. His role as Annabelle's self-appointed protector had never wavered. To him, Annabelle was the innocent victim, and Evelyn—his once-fiancée—was the source of all his troubles.
Evelyn didn't bother to acknowledge him. She slowly placed her glass down on the table and stood, a hint of nonchalance in her movements. "Fine. I'm leaving then," she said, reaching for her purse. "Since the paparazzi you've undoubtedly hired have already snapped my photo here, I don't see any reason to stay."
