"Leslie, I made this Lobster Newberg today," Kiana said. "I felt bad about ruining your wedding gown yesterday, so think of this as my way of apologizing. Try it and tell me if it's good!"
Denver and Travis both turned to look at Leslie.
Leslie smiled faintly. "You don't know I'm allergic to seafood?"
Kiana blinked innocently. "I… I didn't know."
Leslie believed that Denver and Travis didn't know—after all, she had never eaten seafood in front of them. But Kiana? There was no way.
When Kiana first came into Denver's life, Leslie had treated her like a younger sister. She once even brought her out to a restaurant for New England cuisine. Back then, Leslie didn't know she ate lobster until she broke out in rashes immediately.
Denver frowned. "My love, are you really allergic to seafood?"
Travis scoffed. "Isn't that just an excuse? If you don't want to accept Kiana's apology, just say so."
Denver sighed. "Are you still upset about Kiana ruining your dress? She's already apologizing sincerely. Let it go, okay?" Then, he added, "I'll buy you an even prettier dress. Stop making this complicated, alright?"
As he spoke, he cut a small bite of Lobster Newberg with a fork and held it up to Leslie's mouth.
But she turned her head away, refusing to eat it.
"Open your mouth," Denver said coldly, his tone sharp.
When Leslie pressed her lips together tightly, resisting, Denver grabbed her chin. He forced her lips open and shoved the dish into her mouth.
Leslie struggled, trying to break free.
Suddenly, Denver threw the fine bone china fork to the floor, smashing it into pieces. The sharp sound echoed in the room, much like Leslie's shattering heart.
He stood abruptly, glaring at her. "Leslie, have you had enough?"
Leslie held his gaze for just a moment before the cold, unfamiliar look in his eyes made her feel as if she'd been burned.
Tears streaming down her face, she got up and ran upstairs to the bedroom. Once there, she clung to the toilet and vomited the Lobster Newberg.
Downstairs, Kiana lowered her head, her tears falling steadily. "Denver… it's all my fault," she muttered. "I shouldn't have come here. I'll leave now…"
She stood up as if to go, but Denver grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into her seat. "Sit down! This isn't your fault."
Upstairs, Leslie kept vomiting until her head spun. Weak and dizzy, she stumbled to the drawer, searching for her allergy medicine.
She turned the drawer inside out but couldn't find it. Helpless, she watched as red welts spread across her arms, swelling painfully.
Sliding down against the wall, Leslie sat on the floor, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Then, she let out a bitter laugh.
So this was Kiana's plan—not just to take her husband but to take her life too.
Meanwhile, Denver finished both his plate and Leslie's portion of the Lobster Newberg.
Wiping his mouth, he smiled at Kiana. "It's delicious!"
Then, he went upstairs.
When he pushed the door open, he saw his fiancée lying unconscious on the floor. The sight made his heart stop for a moment.
"Leslie? Leslie! Wake up! Don't scare me!"
Panic-stricken, Denver picked Leslie up and rushed downstairs.
Travis, startled, stood up quickly. "What happened? Did she faint from being upset?"
Meanwhile, Kiana started crying again.
"Oh gosh, this is all my fault! I must be the one causing trouble! Everyone around me ends up miserable…" She sniffed, then declared, "I'll leave. I'll leave right now!"
Just like that, she grabbed her suitcase and made it as if to leave again.
Distracted and overwhelmed, Denver handed Leslie to Travis. "Travis, take Leslie to the hospital! I'll stay here and look after Kiana. Hurry!"
Still flustered, Travis quickly carried Leslie out and drove her to the hospital, his movements clumsy with panic.
