Luke's POV
Oliver was sure I would give in, just like I had before.
He was so confident, in fact, that he poured himself a drink with ease, swirling the wine in his glass as if he were waiting for me to bow my head.
But instead, I rose slowly to my feet and straightened my suit jacket.
Then I looked Oliver square in the eye. "You are not welcome here. Are you going to walk out alone, or do you want me to have security escort you?"
The event hall fell utterly silent.
Every guest turned to watch, their eyes flicking nervously back and forth between the three of us.
Oliver's smug grin froze where it was. He had clearly never imagined I would humiliate him like this in front of everyone. Color drained from his face, then came back hot and red. His grip tightened around the wine glass until his knuckles went white.
"Luke!" Oliver yelled.
Before I could reply, Shannon grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin.
"Everyone is watching. What the hell are you doing?" she hissed. "Apologize to Oliver now!"
Her eyes burned with anger and disappointment, flaring with outrage as if I had crossed an unforgivable line, making me seem unreasonable and as if I was the one who ruined our engagement party.
Behind her, Oliver tilted his head. His face shifted into a perfect display of wounded pride and righteous hurt.
He even rubbed at his eyes, as if he had just endured some great injustice.
At that moment, I experienced exhaustion rooted in my bones.
Five years of compromise, forgiveness, and telling myself to let it go, that he was just a spoiled kid.
All of it rushed back now, sharp and impossible to ignore.
And it felt utterly ridiculous.
Slowly, I pried Shannon's hand off my arm.
She froze, staring at me as if she could not believe I would push her away.
"Shannon, do you remember?" I asked, meeting her eyes.
My voice was steady and deliberate as I continued, "Three months ago, I was lying in a hospital bed. The doctor said there was a chance I would lose my leg. That night, you told me Oliver was scared. That he knew he was wrong."
Her pupils tightened. She looked thrown, like she could not understand why I was bringing this up now.
"Do you know," I went on, my voice low but loud enough for the nearby tables to catch, "what went through my head in that moment?"
She parted her lips, but nothing came out.
So I answered for her. "I thought, if I really ended up disabled, would you still excuse him as being immature? Would it still just be another one of his childish mistakes?"
I let the silence hang.
My eyes drifted over Oliver's face, watching the color drain, then settled back on hers.
"Well," I said at last, my tone quiet but cutting, "now I know the answer."
Shannon's expression went rigid.
Then, in a single breath, Oliver changed faces like an actor shifting masks.
Suddenly, he was filled with remorse.
He stumbled forward a half step, his voice catching in a perfectly timed choke. "Luke, this is all my fault."
He raised his sleeve and wiped at tears that were not even there.
"I'm a bastard. I'm trash. All those things I did before, I was just being a dumb kid, acting out."
Even as he spoke, Oliver's eyes flicked to Shannon, assessing her response. He pressed further when he saw her brows furrow and worry cross her face.
"I shouldn't have joked like that, not like this. And I definitely should not have done those awful things to you before. I was wrong. I really was."
His voice climbed, dramatic and loud, pulling every guest's focus.
"But Shannon is innocent. She did not know anything. If you are angry, be angry with me. Do not take it out on her. This is all on me!"
I watched his little performance in silence, cold and still as stone.
I had seen this show too many times before.
Each time, it worked.
He knew precisely how to find the softest part of Shannon's heart and twist it.
And then I would be the one who had to back down.
