Blanche's POV
In the elevator, Amber caught snippets of Joanna's cursing from outside. She didn't seem fazed by it. Her focus stayed locked on me.
Working in modeling had toughened Amber up. A few harsh words weren't going to break someone who'd survived that industry.
Honestly, Joanna's tantrum barely made a dent in Amber's composure—she'd weathered far worse storms than this.
She'd been on the receiving end of crueler words and dealt with nastier people than Joanna could ever be.
Vincent clutched me against him, his heart hammering with terror. When he spotted the blood streaking down my face, his panic spiked even higher.
My face was buried against his chest, and my eyelids had already drifted shut.
"Blanche, stay awake—you can't fall asleep! Look at me, please, I'm begging you, just look at me!" Vincent's voice cracked with desperation.
Vincent dipped his head, brushing his face tenderly against mine.
