The silence stretching through the boutique feels electric. Victor Thorne stands before me, his weathered face etched with concern that seems to run deeper than mere social pleasantry. Behind him, his two bodyguards maintain their professional stance, but I catch them scanning the crowd with trained eyes.
Ryan Doyle looks like he's about to vomit. The color has completely drained from his face, leaving him pale and trembling. Ruby Mills clutches his arm for support, blood still trickling from her split lip.
"There's been a misunderstanding," I say carefully, watching Victor's reaction.
"A misunderstanding?" Victor's eyes narrow as they take in Ruby's injuries, then shift to Ryan. "Mr. Doyle, would you care to explain what happened here?"
Ryan's mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air. No sound comes out.
