The interior of the sleek Aston Martin was dead silent.
Diana sat in the plush leather passenger seat, her head bowed, her perfectly manicured hands resting limply on top of the ribbon-tied bakery box containing her coconut chiffon cake.
She was quietly sniffling.
Her mascara was slightly smudged, and her eyes were puffy and red from the humiliated, angry tears she had been shedding since they left the hotel plaza. She genuinely could not believe what had just happened. Her own brother had stood in front of a swarm of national media and branded her an unstable, aging, attention-seeking alcoholic.
She didn't think she deserved to be treated so harshly. He had left her alone in the car for over an hour! He wasn't answering her calls! He was completely ignoring her! What else was she supposed to do to get his attention?
Diana looked out the tinted window, dabbing her nose with a tissue.
