At the engagement banquet, my fiancé's female assistant plucked a half-eaten piece of broccoli from her plate and dropped it into his bowl.
Bruno Henson smiled, said nothing, and calmly ate it.
I didn't make a scene. I didn't raise my voice. I simply clapped my hands and had my assistant bring out a full bucket of kitchen slop from the back.
"Since you enjoy eating someone else's leftovers so much, why not have your fill?"
"Leave even a single bite, and this engagement is off."
——
The silence that followed was deafening.
Bruno's chopsticks clattered against his plate. He practically launched himself out of his chair.
"Agatha Fox, please don't be upset. This was my fault."
His eyes locked onto mine, terrified I'd say something worse.
Around us, the guests turned to stare, their expressions tinged with the unmistakable gleam of spectators settling in for a show.
Bruno's face flushed crimson. His Adam's apple bobbed twice before he scrambled to explain.
"Genevieve Fox is an intern from a small town. She's only been at the company a few days. She doesn't know proper table etiquette."
"If I'd called her out, word would've gotten around that we bully new hires. Imagine how that would've looked."
He stepped forward and grabbed my hand, his voice dropping to something softer. "I really didn't mean anything by it. I just didn't want to ruin the mood for everyone. I'll make sure she's properly disciplined from now on. Nothing like this will ever happen again."
I looked into his eyes and saw the panic swimming there.
I pulled my hand free and turned to the assistant who'd been standing by the whole time.
"Remove the slop bucket," I said evenly. "Clear the rest of the banquet as well. Cancel everything that comes after."
The assistant nodded. Within seconds, the banquet hall filled with the sound of dishes being collected and chairs scraping against the floor.
Bruno's face went a shade paler. He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.
"Bruno Henson. I suggest you take care of yourself."
He froze mid-motion. His lips parted, then closed. In the end, he didn't dare argue. He just nodded.
I didn't look at him again. I stood and walked straight out of the banquet hall.
On the drive home, the car was suffocated by silence.
Bruno tried to speak several times. Each time, my cold stare shut him down before a single word left his mouth.
The moment I got home and sat down, the doorbell rang.
Bruno stood on the other side, spine rigid, holding two gift bags.
I pressed the button to let him in.
He walked through the door and set the bags on the console table in the entryway. He didn't dare bring them into the living room.
"Agatha, this is a written guarantee I prepared."
He held out a sealed letter. "I've laid everything out clearly. From now on, I will have absolutely no private contact with Genevieve. All work-related communication at the company will be handled by someone else."
I didn't take it. I just looked up at him.
He immediately set the letter on the coffee table, then pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and slid the glowing screen across to me.
"Take my phone. Go through everything. Search whatever you want."
He added quickly, "My messages with Genevieve are strictly work. Project updates. Nothing else."
I glanced at the screen. In the chat app, Genevieve's conversation thread was exactly as he described: one dry work message after another, timestamps scattered, every line about project milestones.
No casual greetings. No personal chatter. Impossibly clean.
I didn't pick up the phone. Bruno saw my expression and rushed to fill the silence.
"I know you're upset. I really was just trying to avoid making things awkward."
I knew exactly what that spotless chat history was. He'd scrubbed it before coming here.
"You don't need to be so nervous," I said flatly.
Bruno's shoulders visibly loosened. He shifted half a step closer, as if drawn by instinct, then caught himself and stayed where he was.
"Agatha, can you forgive me?"
He searched my face. "The engagement banquet, I'll make it right. And Genevieve, I'll handle it."
