Mark let out a dramatic, weary sigh. “Sienna, please, let’s not do this now.”
“I’m perfectly serious,” she snapped back. She stood up, her eyes scanning the tabletop before landing with predatory precision directly on me. “It was right here.”
My mother-in-law placed her wine glass down with careful deliberation. “Perhaps it just slipped—”
“It didn’t slip,” Sienna cut her off. She then locked her gaze onto mine.
“You took it.”
The accusation hit the room with the visceral shock of a plate shattering on a tile floor.
I blinked, momentarily stunned. “What?”
Sienna began to pace around the table, projecting her voice so that no one could miss a single syllable. “Don’t bother playing the innocent. You’re always eyeing what other people have. It’s like you’re constantly terrified that you don’t have enough for yourself.”
My face burned—not with the heat of guilt, but with the sheer absurdity of being slandered in front of my family. Evan pivoted toward her instantly.
“Sienna, that is enough. Stop it.”
