Chapter 812

Bianca Langley's pupils constricted violently.

Her gaze locked onto the familiar figure at the end of the hallway. Her fingertips trembled uncontrollably.

"How dare you show your face here?"

She jerked her arm away from Evelyn Carter's supportive grasp. Her stilettos struck the marble floor in rapid succession. Before Vincent Croix could react, a sharp slap cracked across his cheek.

The crisp sound echoed through the corridor.

Passing guests stopped to stare at the attractive couple. Some pulled out phones. Others whispered excitedly, speculating about a dramatic cheating scandal.

But what happened next defied all expectations.

Bianca's handbag smashed into Vincent's head. The metal clasp left a bloody gash on his temple.

"Have you lost your mind?" Vincent clutched the wound as blood seeped between his fingers. A dark glint flashed in his eyes before morphing into wounded innocence. "I came here personally to see you. What more do you want—"

Smack!

Another vicious strike landed.

The studs on her purse left tiny blood droplets on his cheek. The crowd gasped. Someone rushed to find security.

Evelyn exchanged a glance with Alexander Hamilton before intervening.

Evelyn wrapped her arms around Bianca's shaking body while Alexander swiftly confiscated the decorative planter she'd been raising—a potential weapon in her furious hands.

"Go ahead!" Vincent stepped forward instead of retreating, thrusting his bleeding forehead toward her. "Smash my skull if you dare! You only care about that dead man anyway!"

The words ignited Bianca's rage like gasoline.

She wrenched free from Evelyn's embrace, nails digging into her palms. "You think I won't?" Her voice scraped like broken glass. "You know exactly how Adrian Valentine died!"

Vincent's expression froze momentarily.

He absently touched his facial wounds, studying the blood on his fingertips. The ghost of a smirk flickered before he schooled his features into pained remorse.

"I know you hate me." He pulled a velvet box from his suit pocket. "That's why I brought this."

The lid sprang open, revealing the familiar diamond ring glinting coldly under the lights.

Bianca's stomach twisted violently.

When she spotted the wedding band still on Vincent's ring finger, nausea clawed up her throat. She swatted the box away, sending it arcing through the air before crashing against the wall.

"Don't touch me!" Her words hissed through clenched teeth. "Every time I remember standing before that priest with you, I want to carve those memories out and burn them!"

Vincent scrambled to retrieve the ring. When he straightened, genuine panic flickered in his eyes before being replaced by carefully crafted sorrow.

"I was wrong." His voice trembled. "Mailing the ring overseas was unforgivable. But that plush toy was my last memento. When I heard about your engagement to someone else, I finally understood..."

He paused, as if choosing his words deliberately.

"Maybe my heart betrayed you from our wedding day onward."

The confession oozed sincerity, his breathing rhythm perfectly calibrated. Evelyn frowned—his acting surpassed even Annabelle Taylor's skills.

Bianca suddenly laughed.

The sound resembled metal scraping against shattered glass—harsh and hopeless.

"Betrayal?" She lifted her chin slowly. "You mean when I caught you celebrating another woman's birthday during my pregnancy? Or when you ignored my calls during my hemorrhaging labor because some client mattered more?"

Vincent's face cycled through expressions.

His fists clenched until nails bit into flesh. Poisonous memories coiled around him, but he quickly recomposed himself.

"I'm sorry..." His voice rasped.

"Shut up!" Bianca cut him off sharply. "Every apology from you makes me sick."

A vein pulsed at Vincent's temple.

He inhaled deeply, suppressing his fury. Noticing Alexander's vigilant stare from the corner of his eye, he gritted his teeth discreetly.

"Fine." He retreated a step, raising both hands. "If you don't want to hear it, I'll stop."

The hallway plunged into tomblike silence.

Only the rolling sound of the ring on the floor remained—like one prolonged sigh.