The silence stretches between us like a taut wire ready to snap. Alistair stares at his untouched wine glass, his knuckles white as he grips the edge of the table.
"You think you've won something here," he says finally, his voice low and dangerous. "But this elaborate charade doesn't change the fundamental truth."
I set down my glass with deliberate calm. "Which truth is that?"
"That you failed to protect her." His eyes flash toward Scarlett. "When the Donovans came after your girlfriend, where were you? Where was all this supposed power?"
Scarlett's face flushes. "Alistair, that's enough—"
"No, it's a fair question." He leans forward, pressing his advantage. "Gabriel Donovan destroyed your career with a phone call. Made you unemployable in New York. And what did your boyfriend do? Nothing. He stood by helplessly while you lost everything."
The accusation hangs in the air like smoke. I can see Scarlett's expression shift, uncertainty creeping into her eyes.
