The room erupted in a cacophony of indignant murmurs, but all voices died down when Sebastian Kingsley, the man who had just spoken, lifted a hand.

A lazy smirk curled at the edges of his lips as he drawled, "Do you all swallow every sob story you hear? If I told you this woman here isn’t terminally ill at all, but rather a scheming opportunist playing the victim, would you believe that too?"

Silence fell. The crowd exchanged uncertain glances, their righteous anger faltering.

Sebastian continued, his tone smooth and unhurried. "If you don’t know the full picture, perhaps you shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Just because someone looks fragile doesn’t mean they’re innocent. And those you assume are helpless… might not be so helpless after all."

He chuckled darkly. "I’ve never seen a truly weak person rally an entire room with just a few well-placed tears."

The atmosphere shifted. Doubt crept into the onlookers' expressions.

Victoria Langley flushed, scrambling to explain. "Mr. Kingsley, you misunderstand—I wasn’t trying to manipulate anyone—"

Sebastian cut her off with a mocking grin. "No need to rush, Ms. Langley. I’m merely making a point. Consider it… entertainment."

His gaze flicked to her, sharp and knowing. "Ms. Langley, the food’s getting cold. Why don’t you sit down and talk this out? As far as I recall, Celeste never refused to share the medicine—she simply couldn’t. Besides, those meds are for Celeste’s mother-in-law. If she had them, why wouldn’t she hand them over?"

"Perhaps they’re out of stock. Or maybe there’s another reason entirely. Yet here you are, making a scene. To those who don’t know better, it might seem like you’re just asking for medicine. But others… well, they might assume something far worse has happened to your family."

Understanding dawned on the crowd.

"Oh… so she just doesn’t have any left? Not that she’s refusing?"

"Exactly. Didn’t even ask why before bursting into tears. Is she really that desperate, or just a damn good actress?"

"And the meds aren’t even for her? They’re for that woman’s mother-in-law… So why is she so worked up? What’s their relationship?"

Alexander Blackwood’s brow furrowed. His piercing gaze locked onto Victoria, dark and unreadable.

Her breath hitched. Panic flared in her chest. Tears welled in her eyes, her voice trembling as she whispered, "Alex… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just wanted to help you. I know I’m clumsy, that I always say the wrong thing… that my very existence is a mistake."

Her smile was heartbreakingly fragile. "Alex, you and Ms. Sinclair should talk. I won’t interfere."

With that, she stood, head bowed, and turned toward the door. Her slender frame seemed to carry the weight of the world, evoking pity from those watching.

Outside, unnoticed until now, a storm raged. Rain lashed against the windows in relentless sheets, the rhythmic pounding almost deafening.

Alexander caught her wrist, his jaw tight. "Where do you think you’re going? It’s pouring. You’ll get sick."

Victoria’s composure shattered. Her voice rose, raw and desperate. "Where I go, whether I drown or die—it’s none of your concern!"

She wrenched her arm free and bolted into the storm.

Alexander hesitated only a second before chasing after her. The rain was merciless. Within moments, they were both drenched.

Victoria barely made it past the restaurant’s awning before Alexander caught up. He grabbed her hand, trying to pull her back inside. But she fought him, refusing to budge.