“Are you proposing we settle this with a fight?” Desmond was unshaken by the veiled threat. “Rushing to her defense like a knight in shining armor? Yet it strikes me as profoundly ironic. You’re prepared to clash over your lover, while I’m standing here advocating for your wife. Doesn’t that inversion feel utterly bizarre?”
“It’s not your place to advocate for anyone,” Vance retorted sharply, his usual poise fracturing under the strain. “Regardless of the accuracy of your characterizations, neither of them has anything to do with you. But for your egregious rudeness, I wouldn’t mind giving you a piece of my mind.”
Vance had been driven to the brink of his endurance, otherwise, this paragon of calm restraint would never have uttered such overtly confrontational words.
Desmond was undeterred by the provocation. “Are you so sure you can handle me?”
“Try me,” Vance replied icily.
Catherine tugged at his sleeve. “Forget it, Vance. Why bother with a dancer? We can’t go down to his level.”
Rebecca could barely suppress a laugh at Catherine’s inflated self–importance.
Just then, a ripple of excitement stirred through the assembled guests. Joyce and her husband, Sean Mueller, had made their entrance, accompanied by a poised young woman who could only be Tracy Mueller.
“They’re here,” Catherine whispered, rising to her feet with eager anticipation. “And it seems they’re heading our way.”
In a gesture of collective courtesy, the group stood as one, including Rebecca and Desmond.
Joyce smiled from a distance. “You look stunning today. I could hardly recognize you.”
Catherine beamed with excitement, leaning toward Vance. “Is Mrs. Mueller complimenting me?”
A wave of visceral humiliation surged through Rebecca, shattering the tentative confidence she had mustered to reengage with the world outside her isolation. Panic clawed at her as she frantically tugged at her dress, desperate to cover her legs. Desmond’s features contorted with fury, but Joyce moved first, her brows knitting in disapproval as she advanced decisively. She displaced Catherine with gentle firmness, encircling Rebecca’s waist in a protective embrace. “Are you alright, dear?” Rebecca inhaled deeply, drawing comfort from the subtle, floral fragrance emanating from Joyce–a scent that evoked an inexplicable sense of security and solace.
She shook her head, her voice shaky. “I’m fine. Thank you ”
Joyce patted her back soothingly, then turned to her husband. “This is Rebecca, the special friend I mentioned before.” Sean appeared momentarily lost, trying to place the name amid his recollections.
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