Vanessa stared at him, her jaw dropping. “What? Julian, she insulted me. She spilled soup on my—”

“Apologize to Claire,” Julian repeated, his voice dropping even lower.

“You cannot be serious,” Vanessa laughed, a high, nervous sound. “She is a servant. I am your fiancée.”

“Not anymore,” Julian said.

The dining room seemed to gasp collectively.

Vanessa’s face went pale, the anger draining out of her, replaced by sheer shock.

“Julian, you can’t do this,” she whispered. “Not over her.”

“Apologize to her now, or leave my house,” Julian said.

He stood perfectly still, his hands resting at his sides, but his eyes were black pools of fury.

Vanessa looked around the table, searching the faces of the guests for support.

Every single one of them looked down at their plates.

She looked at her father.

Senator Whitmore’s face was dark with embarrassment and anger, but he did not speak.

“I will not apologize to a maid,” Vanessa spat, her voice trembling.

“Then get out,” Julian said.

Vanessa grabbed her clutch from the table.

She looked at me, her eyes filled with a hatred so pure it made me shiver.