The moment Victoria finished her sentence, Everett let go of my hand. He didn’t just let go; he gave me a firm shove forward.

"Go ahead," he said, his voice flat. "Grandpa loves it. As his granddaughter-in-law, it’s only right you cater to his preferences."

I steadied myself, drawing in a sharp breath. When I looked up, my eyes were already brimming with tears.

"But I don't know how," I said, my voice trembling just enough to catch the attention of nearby guests. "Those dishes were prepared by Hailey. It’s her cooking Grandpa praised, so how could I possibly replicate that? Victoria, I know you don't care for me and you’re eager to see me make a fool of myself, but I am still a Harrison. Can you please, for the sake of Grandpa’s birthday gala, keep things in perspective?"

Hailey stepped forward, her face twisted in feigned indignation, pointing a manicured finger at me. "Evelyn, is this how you talk to your elders? If you’re told to do something, you do it. You really have no upbringing at all."

My eyes welled up further. I turned to her, my voice small and wounded. "Hailey, I think you should be heading to the kitchen right now. The banquet is about to start. If you’re late, it’s going to be a disaster."

I paused, shrinking my shoulders as if I were truly intimidated. "Or is it that you, as the heiress to the Silva fortune, believe we aren't worthy of your cooking? Is that why you’ve been whispering in Victoria’s ear to cause this scene and deliberately hold things up?"

As if everything had suddenly clicked, I began to muse aloud, loud enough for those nearby to hear. "I thought as much. Victoria is a sensible woman; she wouldn't choose today of all days to make things difficult for me without a reason. You must have been filling her head with nonsense, right, Victoria?"

My performance was so convincing, so layered with genuine-looking hurt, that even Everett furrowed his brows, glancing at his mother with a hint of warning.

"Mom," he muttered. "It’s Grandpa’s gala. Please, don't stir up trouble."

The whispers of the crowd shifted, turning their focus squarely on Victoria. Her face drained of color, turning a sickly, bruised shade of grey. Without another word, she grabbed Hailey—who looked equally distressed—and retreated into the crowd.

Everett didn't wait for me. He simply walked away, his back rigid. He was clearly angry. He was annoyed that I hadn’t just suffered in silence, like I usually did. He was furious that I’d dared to fight back and ruin the carefully curated illusion of a happy, obedient wife.

I stood there alone, watching his receding silhouette. With every step he took away from me, I felt a piece of the love I’d held for him wither and die, drifting away like ash in the wind.