He sneered, his voice growing louder and more theatrical as he tried to save face. "Just keep going, Oliver. Keep pretending you're a man of principle. One day, your cup will be full—and when it spills, the whole world will see which direction the water flowed."
Oliver didn't turn around. He didn't give James the satisfaction of a response.
Instead, he opened the restaurant door and walked out into the afternoon light, holding it open just long enough for Cora to follow. She walked past James without a single glance.
Once outside, the noise and tension dissolved into the crisp breeze. The air smelled different—cleaner. Lighter.
But Cora, still burning from the scene, glanced sideways at Oliver and narrowed her eyes playfully. "Okay, be honest," she said, her voice low with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. "What were you doing there? Were you stalking me?"
Oliver's eyes widened, and he scoffed with a smirk. "Me? Stalk you? You must think very highly of yourself."
