The tension in the Ricardo dining room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Everyone's eyes were on me, waiting for my next words. I kept my expression neutral as I slipped my phone back into my pocket, deciding to let this play out.
"Yet?" Imogen's voice cracked slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
I shrugged. "Nothing at all. Please, continue with your breakfast announcement."
Delilah cleared her throat, regaining her composure. "As I was saying, we'd be honored if the whole family attended tomorrow's ceremony."
"Will there be reporters?" Old Mrs. Margaret asked suddenly.
"Of course," Delilah preened. "The press has been following Imogen's heroic story closely."
The elderly woman's eyes narrowed. "Then absolutely not. I won't have camera flashes triggering my migraines."
Nathaniel's uncle, Owen Ricardo, chose that moment to enter the dining room. He nodded curtly at Nathaniel before taking a seat.
"What did I miss?" he asked, signaling a servant for coffee.
