Victor Vale arrived at the rehearsal dinner like a man who already owned tomorrow.
He wore a silver tie, a crocodile smile, and the confidence of someone who had purchased judges, bankers, and silence. Elian stood beside him, handsome and hollow, his hand resting too tightly on Mara’s waist.
When I entered, Victor lifted his glass.
“Ah, Clara,” he said. “The difficult sister.”
A few guests laughed because rich cowards always laugh on cue.
I smiled. “I prefer observant.”
Elian leaned toward me. “Try not to make a scene tomorrow. Mara needs one stable woman in her family.”
Mara flinched.
I saw it. So did he. He enjoyed it.
Victor’s smile sharpened. “Your parents built a charming little business. Shame how fragile small companies are. One missed payment, one nervous investor, one rumor…”
My father went pale. My mother lowered her eyes.
I sipped my wine. “Rumors can be dangerous.”
Victor chuckled. “Only when they’re false.”
Across the table, Elian whispered into Mara’s ear. I did not hear the words, but I saw her fingers tighten around her napkin until her knuckles turned white.
