Lorenzo clenched his fists, rage boiling inside him like a pot about to overflow, as Christian's smug face filled the TV screen. That condescending smile made his blood spike.
Every lie felt like a blade, slicing through old wounds, making him regret not ending the bastard years ago.
"Mr. Harrington, are you suggesting Lorenzo Grey was the reason your wife left you three years ago?" Imelda Rose asked. Her voice was calm and measured, her eyes probing Christian's with calculated curiosity.
Christian's gaze darkened, his eyes gleaming with malice. "It's not a suggestion if it's fact."
Beside Lorenzo, Ashley's face twisted with anger. "That's a lie," she snapped, her voice trembling.
She took a step forward, as if ready to lunge at the screen. "He's twisting everything," she muttered, her voice lower but still furious.
Imelda continued, her voice tinged with faux empathy—the kind that made her guests let their guards down, and reveal more than they intended.
