Blood ran down my cheeks, warm and sticky. The concern I'd been praying for never came. Instead, Stewart's voice exploded in my ear:
"What the hell is wrong with you, Leonora? Didn't you see what they were doing to Vivian?"
"You just let the guy walk out? Was that on purpose?!"
Every word froze the blood in my veins.
Some pathetic part of me had wanted to see if he would lose his mind for me the way he did for Vivian.
But there was no tenderness in his eyes. No protectiveness. Only rage.
Why was I so desperate?
Stewart had already decided I was there to cause trouble.
"What are you even doing here? Came to laugh at Vivian?"
"Pack up that pitiful pride of yours. Let me make this clear: as long as I'm around, nobody touches her."
Tears of humiliation burned behind my eyes.
"I wasn't—"
Vivian cut me off with a sob. "Stewart, this is all my fault for coming to you for help! Leonora has every right to hate me. I should just go. You two can have your wedding."
Stewart melted instantly. He wiped her tears with a gentleness I hadn't seen in years:
"Don't you dare. She's the petty one, not you. You've done nothing wrong."
One of his friends, trying to break the tension, held out a glass of wine toward me.