Downstairs, the dining room felt colder now, as if Ethan had taken all the warmth with him when he fled. The space seemed hollow in a way it hadn't been moments before, despite everyone still gathered around the table.
The silence Ethan left behind lingered like a shadow, heavy and accusatory. No one moved for a long moment. The clatter of silverware had ceased. Even breathing seemed muted.
Then, Bianca turned slowly toward Lucas, her movements deliberate and controlled. Her expression had shifted entirely from what it had been. No longer just concerned or worried.
Now, she was upset. Genuinely, deeply upset.
"Lucas," she said, her voice steady, but laced with barely restrained emotion, "what was that? That was too much." The words came out measured, each one carefully chosen, as if she were afraid that raising her voice would shatter something irreparable.
Lucas didn't look up from his plate, his jaw tight. "He'll be fine."
