Chapter 8

The dining room of the Glover estate was a cathedral of wealth. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light over the long mahogany table, which was set with china that cost more than most people's cars. The food was exquisite, but the atmosphere was Arctic.

Blair sat near the center, Tristan on her right. At the head of the table sat Hughie Glover, his face a mask of stone, methodically slicing his steak. He hadn't looked at Blair once since she sat down.

Georgiana sat across from them, fussing over Kiana, who was dressed in a sickeningly sweet pink gown. Georgiana piled food onto Kiana's plate, cooing over her, while shooting cold glances at Blair.

Kiana was practically vibrating with smugness. She played with her silverware, waiting for her moment.

Halfway through the main course, Kiana deliberately dropped her fork. The clatter of silver on porcelain rang out, silencing the quiet murmurs of the other relatives.

She picked up her wine glass, raising it toward Blair with a saccharine smile. "Sister, a toast to you."

Blair paused, her own glass hovering in the air. She simply looked at Kiana, waiting.

Kiana pouted, feigning hurt. "Are you still mad at me, Blair? Is it because of the Alexis thing?"

She had dropped the bomb right in the middle of the family dinner. The relatives exchanged glances, their whispers starting up again like a hive of disturbed bees.

Georgiana placed a hand on her chest, playing the part of the concerned mother perfectly. "Kiana, hush. Your sister is going through a hard time. Being dumped publicly is very stressful."

The insult was delivered with a smile and a knife's edge. Mother and daughter were a coordinated attack squad, determined to humiliate Blair in front of the entire family.

Tristan's hand slammed down on the table. "That's enough-"

Blair's hand shot out, her fingers pressing firmly against Tristan's. She pushed his hand down, silencing him. She didn't need a knight. She needed him to watch.

Blair picked up her linen napkin, dabbing the corners of her mouth with excruciating slowness. She then turned her gaze to Kiana, a faint, chilling smile playing on her lips.

"Kiana, I think you're laboring under a delusion."

Kiana blinked, the smile slipping. "Delusion? The whole internet saw Alexis dump you for me. What delusion?"

She was pushing, trying to force Blair to admit defeat, to break down in tears like a jilted lover.

Kiana turned her attention to Tristan, leaning forward with a fake pout. "Tristan, you're always so close to Blair. Tell her not to worry. There are plenty of fish in the sea. She should focus on her career."

It was a calculated move, implying that Blair's closeness to Tristan was something sordid, trying to drive a wedge between the only allies Blair had.

Tristan's face darkened, his hands clenching into fists under the table. Kiana's manipulation was nauseating.

But Blair just laughed. It was a soft, melodic sound that somehow froze the air in the room. She picked up her wine glass and rose from her chair.

"You're absolutely right," Blair said, her voice ringing clearly through the hall. "Career is the most important thing."

She stood tall, looking down the length of the table at the assembled relatives. "However, you are wrong about one thing."

Her voice dropped, sharp as a whip. "I am not heartbroken. And I am certainly not angry."

She stepped away from her chair and walked slowly toward Kiana's end of the table. The click of her heels was the only sound in the room.

"I'm just worried about you," Blair said, stopping right beside Kiana's chair.

Kiana scowled, leaning back slightly. "Worried? About me?"

Blair leaned down, her lips close to Kiana's ear, but her voice projected perfectly to the silent room. "Did you really think you stole my man?"

She paused, letting the suspense build.

"No, sweetie. You just picked up the trash I threw away."

The words hit the room like a bomb. The silence was absolute, followed by a collective gasp from the relatives.

Kiana's face turned an explosive shade of red. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out, her brain short-circuiting from the sheer audacity of the insult.

Blair straightened up, the cold smile still on her lips. But her eyes were dead, promising absolute destruction. The game was on.