A heavy silence settled over the grand hall as Augustine and Anne disappeared behind the door with Dimitri. The earlier chaos had faded, but the aftermath hung thick in the air.
Jeanne collapsed into a chair nearby, her eyes clouded with fury and shame. Her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, the sting of humiliation twisting her heart painfully.
Denis, meanwhile, stood frozen in place, eyes glazed over with disbelief and regret. He looked like a man struck by lightning—still standing but burned within.
The truth hit him like a punch to the gut. Tania had deceived him from the very beginning, weaving a web of lies. She had played the role of the wounded innocent, twisting facts and painting Anne as the villain.
And he had fallen for it. She had pretended to be the wronged one, weaving a convincing web of pain and victimhood. And he? He had swallowed every word. Every tear of Tania's had convinced him that she had been wronged.
