Nobody said so.
Seraphina crouched.
“I’ll clean it.”
Her husband, Grant Holloway, stood twenty feet away near the dining room doors.
He did not look up from his phone.
Grant wore a custom tuxedo cut perfectly across his broad shoulders, Italian leather shoes, and a limited-edition Swiss watch worth nearly eighty thousand dollars.
Seraphina had given him that watch on their fifth anniversary.
Grant had later told a financial magazine that he bought it as a reward after closing his first major private-capital deal.
Seraphina had read the article in silence.
She had not corrected him.
She rarely corrected anyone anymore.
“Make sure you get all the pieces,” Grant said absently.
“The staff already left.”
Seraphina picked up a sharp fragment.
A tiny edge cut her finger.
A bead of blood appeared.
She stared at it.
Somehow, that tiny red drop made the entire evening feel suddenly real.
She stood.
