Vanessa’s champagne glass trembled in her hand.
For the first time that evening, her smile didn’t come back.
“Claire… let’s not do this here,” she whispered, her voice suddenly smaller, almost pleading. “It’s Lily’s birthday.”
The room held its breath.
I looked at Lily—frozen beside the cake, confused, her crown slightly tilted. Then I looked back at Vanessa.
“You already did this here,” I said quietly.
Marcus stepped forward, calm but firm. “Ma’am, we need you to step away from the table.”
Vanessa laughed—but it cracked halfway through. “This is ridiculous. It’s just a misunderstanding.”
Marcus didn’t answer. He tapped his screen.
And then… the video played.
