The air in the room was stifling, heavy with the weight of Bruno's cruel decision.
My chest tightened as I watched the broken maid being escorted out, her sobs echoing faintly even as the doors closed behind her.
The sound clawed at my heart, refusing to let go. I stood frozen, staring at the remnants of her presence: the shattered glass, the spilled wine, and the oppressive silence that had fallen over everyone.
"Maria," Bruno said, his voice cutting through the silence.
He was seated again, sampling a small plate of hors d'oeuvres, as if nothing had happened.
His casual demeanor lit a fire inside me.
I approached him cautiously but with purpose, my hands clenched at my sides.
"Bruno, we need to talk about what just happened," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the storm raging within me.
He didn't look up. Instead, he picked up a tiny canapé, inspecting it like it was the most important thing in the world.