Halfway through the celebration, I excused myself to the restroom, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere.
I stood at the sink, staring at my reflection, face pale, eyes hollow.
The woman in the mirror felt like a stranger. I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water onto my face again and again, trying to force myself awake.
That was when the restroom door was kicked open from the outside.
The loud bang made me flinch.
I turned and saw the last person I expected.
It was Leland. He still wore that same careless, devil-may-care expression, a crooked smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
But his eyes were razor-sharp, dangerous in a way that made my chest tighten.
Behind him stood a group of men in black suits, their faces cold and hostile.
The entire backstage area fell into dead silence.
Leland's gaze swept across the room before locking onto me.
He strode toward me.
His eyes moved slowly, from my face, down my arm, until they stopped on my right hand, wrapped thickly in bandages.
The smirk vanished in an instant. What replaced it was pure, uncontrollable fury.
I watched as the rims of his eyes—eyes that were always smiling—slowly reddened.
His body trembled, just slightly.
"Who did this?" he asked in a low voice, yet it carried the weight of a coming storm.
People around us instinctively backed away.
Before I could say a word, Ian's bodyguards rushed in, forming a wall.
"Mr. Riley," one of them said warily, "this is Mr. Wade's venue. What do you think you're doing?"
Leland didn't even glance at them.
He lifted his leg and kicked the nearest bodyguard straight in the stomach.
The man, well over six feet tall, was sent flying like a sandbag, slamming into the wall with a dull thud.
"I asked you, who did this!" Leland said again, his voice trembling with pain as he looked at me.
He reached out, hesitating, his hand hovering inches from my injured wrist, as if he were afraid that even the slightest touch might hurt me.
The way he looked at me was careful, reverent. As if I were something rare and irreplaceable, a treasure he had just fought his way to reclaim.
My nose burned. I almost cried.
"Well done, Ian," Leland suddenly laughed, though the sound was colder than ice. "The trash you threw away? To me, she's priceless."
Ian's face darkened the moment he saw Leland.
"Leland, have you lost your mind?" he snapped.
The fire in Leland's eyes only burned hotter.
"Ian, screw you!" Leland shouted as he lunged forward, grabbing Ian by the collar. "Are you even human?!"
His fist came down hard against Ian's face, his eyes bloodshot with rage.
The room erupted. Jemma screamed as both sides lunged at each other, the crash of shattered glass and startled cries filling the air.
The entire banquet hall spiraled completely out of control.
