Joanne broke into a thousand, silent pieces.
She didn't cry. Didn't scream. She just… walked.
Her heels clicked against the patio stones with a rhythmic grace, the late afternoon sun casting long golden shadows across the garden party that had once felt like a celebration. Now, it felt like a crime scene.
The world behind her was fading into murmurs and sidelong glances, the tinkling of cutlery suddenly sharp in her ears. She didn't look back. She had enough dignity left to hold her chin high as she passed through the garden, past the marble statues and linen-draped tables, toward the front of the estate.
As she walked past the large parasols and manicured hedges, her eyes landed on Lady Elsa—sitting like royalty with a half-empty glass of white wine, the light catching in the rim. Her gaze was sharp, amused. Joanne smiled politely, tilting her head in a small nod.
Thank you for the entertainment, Lady Elsa.
