Caleb’s words sliced through the noise of the gala, low and deliberate. “I said, what’s going on here, Samantha?”

I clutched my champagne flute, my grip tightening as if the fragile glass could somehow anchor me.

My gaze flicked toward the crowd, but no one seemed to notice the tension brewing at the edge of the room.

“I don’t understand,” I said, forcing an air of confusion into my tone. My voice came out steadier than I expected, but my chest was tight.

Caleb tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t understand?” He took a small step closer, the intensity in his gaze searing. “Don’t play games with me....