Nathaniel's expression gave nothing away as he descended the staircase. Each step was measured and controlled, like a predator stalking its prey. My stomach twisted into knots. Would he defend me or destroy me? The silence in the room was deafening as everyone held their breath.
Before Nathaniel could reach the bottom of the stairs, my mother—no, Ivy—broke through the crowd and rushed toward him. Her face was contorted in a mask of righteous indignation.
"Mr. Ricardo!" she wailed, grabbing his arm. "You must take responsibility! My daughter may be naive, but she doesn't deserve to be used and discarded like this!"
I almost laughed at the irony. After years of treating me like dirt beneath her feet, she was now pretending to defend my honor?
Nathaniel's gaze hardened as he stared down at her hand clutching his sleeve. He didn't say a word, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.