Gwen had changed. The woman who had once been a beauty queen, who had once been the center of attention in every room she walked into, was now reduced to nothing behind these walls. Her golden hair was dull, her cheekbones more pronounced.
But it wasn't just her appearance that had changed. It was her eyes.
Once filled with arrogance and fire, they now held something else. Something fragile. Something desperate.
"Richard?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. She stepped forward quickly, her hands gripping the edge of the table between us. "Is everything okay? Is Chayara alright?"
She didn't even sit down before asking.
Her first concern was Chayara.
I exhaled sharply, my jaw tightening. "I just had a rather interesting conversation with Sam."
I watched as the blood drained from her face, as guilt and regret twisted her features.
She knew.