The tension was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. I could see Margaret’s friends whispering behind their champagne flutes, their eyes never leaving the scene. I knew the rumors would fly, but I was ready for them. This was my moment to stand tall, to show them the strength they had underestimated.

Margaret, always the consummate hostess, finally managed a brittle smile. “Evelyn, Alex, why don’t you join us for dinner?” she suggested, the invitation more of a command than a request.

I nodded graciously. “We’d be delighted.”